ETHICAL QUESTIONS; 



OR 



SPECULATIONS 



ON THE 



PRINCIPAL SUBJECTS OF CONTROVERSY 



IN 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



By T. COGAN, D. 

AUTHOR OF A PHILOSOPHICAL TREATISE ON THE PASSIONS, 

ETC. 



" We must study true metaphysics with some care, in order to destroy 
the false, and adulterate." Hume. 

"Itaqne naturje facienda est prorsus solutio et separatio; non per igneni 
f?erte, sed per mentem, tanquam ignem divinum." Bacon. 




Hontion: 



PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND AV. DA VIES, STRAND ; LONGMAN, 
HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW; 
HUNTER, ST. PAUL's CHURCHYARD ; AND S. BINNS, BATH. 



1817. 



rUlNlED BY RrCilAKr) AND AUTHUR TAYLOR, SHOE lANE, XOCDON 



PREFACE. 



In my Philosophical and Ethical Treatises 
on the Passions^ every subject merely specu- 
lative, was cautiously avoided ; the object 
being to collect and arrange the important 
truths, philosophical and moral, which are 
generally received, in some regular order, 
and give them a practical direction. But I 
indulged, and even expressed, the hopes that 
as my researches were made in the analytic 
manner, and without any reference to parti- 
cular systems, they might spread before the 
reader many facts relative to controversial 
points, to which the partial and contracted 
nature of controversy may have rendered him 
too inattentive. 

The following Speculations, although they 
may be considered as supplementary to the 

preceding 



PREFACE. 



preceding volumes, did not form a part of my 
original plan. They are the result of those ob- 
servations which were occasionally committed 
to paper, in the course of my inquiries into 
the moral history of the human mind ; and 
which were for many years totally forgotten. 
But upon a late revisal of them, I was sur- 
prised to find that they w^ere not only more 
numerous than I had imagined, but that some 
of them appeared of considerable importance, 
as having a tendency to elucidate several of the 
disputed points in speculative Ethics. I have, 
therefore, arranged them in the order which 
seems to be most eligible, and I now venture 
to submit them to the candour of the public. 

Those who have perused Dr. Priestley^s 
Strictures on the Philosophy of the North, 
may think that I have taken unnecessary pains 
to confute the hypothesis of Dr. Beattie, so 
boldly advanced, and perseveringly supported, 
in the popular Essay on Truth, Had I been 
acquainted with that publication, at an early 
period, I should certainly not have undertaken 
the disagreeable task. But in consequence of 
having resided many years in a foreign coun- 
try, 



PREFACE. 



V 



try, I had composed the Speculation before 
the Examwation attracted my attention; and 
after the perusal of it, I was induced by two 
considerations not to suppress what I had writ- 
ten. I perceived that our modes of attack, 
and the arguments we used, were very chfFe- 
rent ; and as our sentiments respecting Dr. 
Beattie's principles perfectly coincided, I was 
not unwilling to consider myself in the more 
humble station of an auxiliary. But the more 
powerful motive was, a recent edition of the 
Essay on Truth indicates that Dr. Priestley's 
arguments have not produced universal con- 
viction. In the field of science, as well as of 
agriculture, the weeds which have not been to- 
tally eradicated, will spring up, and require a 
second hoeing. 

These Speculations, being of a more con- 
troversial nature, will probably fall into the 
hands^f those who have not perused the Trea- 
tises a|ove mentioned. This lays me under 
the necessity of giving ample extracts from 
them. It is probable that the present publica- 
tion may not meet with the same indulgence 
as was shown to the preceding. Thet/ had a 

character 



PREFACE. 



character perfectly pacific. They attacked no 
favourite opinions; and consequently excited 
no alarm. My readers had notliing to defend ; 
and my errors have been passed over without 
animadversions. I have now to expect,- - 
should my arguments be deemed worthy of 
attention, — thatsome of them will be litigated. 
What I have to request is, that a detection of 
incidental errors may not be considered as a 
full confutation of my principles ; and what I 
have a right to demand is, that my opponents 
will pursue the analytic mode with equal at- 
tention and care ; and found opposite results 
upon more sohd arguments. 

The sentiments I have been solicitous to 
support in these Speculations, appear to me 
so influential to the practice of virtue, so 
conducive to human happiness, and so ho- 
nourable to the Supreme Being, that I sin- 
cerely hope every endeavour to confute them 
will be in vain. 

JaHuary 1st, IB 17. 



CONTENTS. 



Qi'Esrii-tN 

I. What are the Sources of Rntlonal Conviction ? and 
what are the characteristic Differences of each ? 

Page 1 

II. Is Benevolence a Principle distinct from Self-love^ or 
a Modification of it? SI 

I] I. Is Human Nature endovv-ed with a Moral Sense, to 
perceive Moral Principles, in a Manner analogous 
to the Organs of Sense, in the Perception of ex- 
ternal Objects ? 107 

IV, Are the Actions and Volitions of Men necessary^, in 

given Circumstances? or. Circumstances being the 
same, could a contrary Volition be formed, or a con- 
trary Conduct be adopted ? 133 

V. Is Human Nature endowed with a Common Sense, 

destined to be the Criterion of Truth ; and more in- 
falli!)lej in any Case, respecting its Decisions, than 
the Deductions of Reason ? 1/3 

VI. Are the Sceptical Opinions advanced by Mr. Hume, 

in his Enquhy into the Human U/iderstandi?ig, 
founded on the legitimate Use, or the Abuse, of Rea- 
son ? Or is it necessary to renoLince our Reason, in 
order to reject them ? 243 

VII. Vv^hence are our Ideas of Moral Obligation derived ; 

and what is the fuial Cause of the Obligation ? 311 
Notes 411 



SPECULATION L 



WHAT ARE THE SOURCES OF RATIONAL 
CONVICTION? AND WHAT ARE THE 
CHARACTERISTIC DIFFERENCES OF 
EACH ? 



B 



ETHICAL QUESTIONS, 



SPECULATION I. 

WHAT ARE THE SOURCES OF RATIONAL CONVIC- 
TION? AND WHAT ARE THE CHARACTERISTIC 
• DIFFERENCES OF EACH ? 

Every man professes to love truth. Every man 
acknowledges the importance of truth. The histo- 
rian, tlie philosopher, the moralist, the divine, main- 
tain tiiat this is the grand object of their pursuits. 
To bring forwards latent truths is deemed so ho- 
nourable, that investigatoi's are prone to be jealous 
of each other ; and they value their own real or 
imaginary discoveries so highly, that they are prone 
to enforce them with dispositions not always the 
most amiable, and by methods not always the most 
respectable. 

But, in the midst of all this eagerness, few per- 
sons have made the nature of evidence and the 
kinds of evidence on which truths are founded, or 

B 2 the 



4 



SOURCES OF 



the degTees of it which are necessary for the con- 
viction of a rational mind, the subjects of minute 
inquiry. It must however be acknowledged, that 
no inquiry can be more important. The arguments 
by which we attempt to evince the truth, are the 
weapons with which we are professedly combating 
error ; and it is most desirable for every combatant 
to know the powers of his instrument, and its adap- 
tation to the conflict; or he may fight at random, 
and spend his strength in vain. 

We shall therefore commence our speculations 
upon some of the more disputable subjects in mo- 
rals, by an inquiry into the nature of evidence in ge- 
neral, and the degrees of it, to which, upon intricate 
points, it is wise to submit. 

There must be such a thing as truth, This as- 
sertion will be acknowledged by every man, ex-^ 
cepting a most determined sceptic ; and it is im-f 
possible for him to confute it. He who would per- 
suade us that truth does not exist, is still attempts 
ing to establish the truth of his own position. 

Errors abound. But there is not the same ne^ 
cessity, in nature, for the existence of error as of 
truth. Error may be confuted and annihilated, but 
truth is invulnerable and immutable. It may be 
neglected, and assiduously concealed or misrepre- 
sented, but it cannot be destroyed. 

All evidence respects truth, and truth respects 

the 



IIATIOI^AL COJ^VICTION-. 5 

the existence of things, their specific natures, attri- 
butes, or the qualities which are essential to their 
being what they are, their relations with other sub- 
stances, and their influence upon them. 

From its extreme simplicity it is difficult to de- 
fine truth. Definitions respect the peculiar pro- 
perties, by which one subject is discriminated fi^om 
another. Truth can be distinguished fi'om nothing 
but its direct opposite, error ; but the distinction 
cannot be made, until each be precisely known. 
Whatever has been, is, or xvill be, is entitled to the 
denomination of a truth. Error is merely a thought^ 
an opinion, a phantom of the imagination, or a vo- 
luntary deception of a depraved mind, and can be 
sut>stantiated no where. 

Truth is, and must be, beneficial in its nature ; 
error must be pernicious. The one is a sure guide; 
the foundation upon which we must build to be se- 
cure. We must know that things are, what they 
are, how they are, and what powers they possess, 
before we can act in a manner correspondent with 
their natures. Error must be pernicious, as it can- 
not be acted upon ; it always deceives and disap- 
points. 

Truth is important, because it respects existences 
and relations which may have an influence upon our 
well-being', and without which Well-being can never 
be obtained, 

Hoxv 



6 



SOURCES O^" 



How shall zve know the truth ? is therefore a most 
interesting question. 

The question will best be answered by an inquiry 
into the different modes of obtaining know ledge, 
and also by an attention to the different kinds of 
evidence, upon which our conv iction of the existence 
of an individual truth depends. 

When the mind is impressed with a conviction 
of any truth, the conviction is ascribed to certain 
proofs or evidences of its reality ; and these may be 
of various kinds, according to the nature of the sub- 
ject, or the means of information. 

The following arrangement appears to me to com- 
prehend every species of evidence. 

I. Truths are known through the medium of our 
senses ; 

II. By quick perceptions, without conscious rea- 
soning ; 

III. By observation and experience ; 

IV. By human testimony ; 

V. Through the medium of memory ,^ by which 

they are recalled ; 
VI. By reasoning or logical deductions ; 
VII. By mathematical evidence. 

Each source possesses its peculiar characteristics, 
which have a tendency to augment or diminish its 
force, and therefore deserve our attention also. 

Sectiojt 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 



7 



Section I. 
Evidence of the Senses. 

0(JR senses inform us that external objects exist. 
We see them, or we feel their influence. By the 
organs of sight, we perceive not only the existence 
of bodies, but their comparative sizes, their figures, 
colours, situations. By the touch, we discover whe- 
ther they be soft or hard, rough or smooth, sharp 
or obtuse ; we ascertain also their figure, size, &c. 
By the organs of taste, w^e perceive that they are 
bitter, sweet, sour, &c. and the peculiarities of their 
flavour. By the olfactory nerves, we are made ac- 
quainted with specific odours. By the ear, we learn 
whether and to w hat degree bodies are sonorous, &c. 

These are facts of which we acquire an imme- 
diate knowledge by our senses alone. The impres- 
sions which they make are so strong that it would 
be superfluous to reason upon the subject, and we 
feel assured, prior to any exertions of the reasoning 
powers. No man will take the trouble of proving 
to himself the reality of his own existence. He 
will readily assent to the truth of the axiom when 
stated, that whoever thinks, feels, and acts, must 
exist ; but he will not suspend his sensations until 
he has proved the point : and few find it necessary 
to draw a formal inference, that if they see some- 
thing, 



8 



SOURCES OF 



thing, there must be something to be seen ; if they 
hear a sound, it must proceed from some sonorous 
body. 

Every one will also confess that the existence 
or sensible qualities of bodies cannot be known d 
prioj^i ; and that we should have remained totally 
ignorant of them, without the powers of sensation. 
Such truths are so simple and obvious, that it would 
be deemed idle to reason upon the subject; but 
there are arguments remaining, as it M ere, in a more 
latent state, and exerting perhaps a secret power 
without awakening the attention ; similar to what 
has been ascertained concerning light and heat. 

Some there are who profess to distrust the evi- 
dences of the senses altogether, because there may 
be occasional cases of deception. A conviction that 
occasional deceptions have existed, or may exist, 
should inspire us with caution ; but these rare in- 
stances cannot invalidate the grand principle upon 
which the evidence rests. We know that our ideas 
of corporeal or material substances, of shapes, co- 
lours, sounds, &c. could never have been formed, if 
nothing had existed to excite them, and had we not 
been furnished with organs adapted to the excite- 
ments. A deception, in a singular ii:^stance, can 
alone be discovered by a conviction of realities, re- 
specting the great mass of impressions. The extra- 
vagant position that we may always be deceived, de- 
stroys 



HATTONAL CONVICTIOlsr. 



9 



stroys the idea of particular deceptions. We never 
can know that we have been deceived, in any case, 
but by the manifestation of a truth, which has de- 
tected the deception. The impressions of fancy are 
transient, are very seldom reiterated ; real exist- 
ences repeat their influence, uniformly and inva- 
riably. We can act correspondent to them with 
certainty and success ; which is not the case with 
visionary scenes. The impressions made upon one 
man, will be made upon thousands and tens of thou- 
sands, in similar situations, and endowed with si- 
milar organs. Spectators at a theatre have never 
been in doubt concerning the reality of the exhibi- 
tion, because some one of them had once dreamed 
that he was at a play, and discovered his mistake 
when he awoke. The numerous attendants at a con- 
cert, have never disturbed their minds with appre- 
hending that the whole was a delusion, because some 
fanatic may have thought that he heard the music 
of the spheres. 

In a word, the strange hypothesis confutes itself. 
It is supported by an argument which destroys the 
objection. How can the objector know that our 
senses deceive us at any time ? It can alone be by 
the accurate discoveries of these very senses. Thus 
is he compelled to place his confidence in a testi- 
mony which he professedly rejects. 



Sectiois" 



10 



SOURCES OF 



Section II. 
Quick Perception without conscious Reasoning, 

All animals, in the earliest stages of their exist- 
ence, act, without the aid of profound philosophy, 
in a manner which a most intimate acquaintance 
with the laws of nature would dictate. Young 
quadrupeds use their legs with more agility than 
the most renowned pedestrian ; and young bipeds 
nicely balance their bodies without having served 
an apprenticeship to a balance-master. The chick 
scratches the ground, without calculating the pro- 
babilities of its finding food ; and the duckling seeks 
the water, without contemplating the adaptations 
of its conformation, or hesitating from apprehen- 
sions of being drowned. All young animals start 
at a sudden alarm, and fly with apparent apprehen- 
sions of danger, before they could know, from ex- 
perience, that danger exists. At a very early pe- 
riod of his existence, before the reasoning powers 
of Man can be in exercise, the human race, in com- 
mon with all other animals, are the creatures of in- 
stinct. The infant has not only an appetite, without 
knowing that food will nourish him, but it eagerly 
and most expertly applies to the breast, without 
being informed that it contains the nutrition neces- 
sary for its existence, or having studied the laws of 

suction, 



RATIONAL CONVICTION". 



11 



suction. It screams out from uneasy sensations, 
without knowing that it will excite compassion ; 
and seems, by its extended hands, to supplicate for 
aid, concerning which it can form no ideas. These 
instinctive movements are soon followed by a dawn 
of discernment. At first, the infant will apply to 
any breast, or will yield itself to the arms of any 
attendant; but it quickly learns to distinguish its 
mother or its nurse, rewarding their anxious cares 
with exclusive attachments. Thus are quick per- 
ceptions and accurate discriminations formed, be- 
fore we are able to discover the process of ratioci- 
nation. These and the like perceptions are founded 
on the experience of gratifications, and the expect- 
ancy of their repetition. It is usual for young chil- 
dren to be shy towards strangers, as soon as they 
are able to distinguish between strangers and fami- 
liars : this is removed by frequent intercourse, and 
will be exchanged for affection by kind treatment. 

From these commencements is the infant mind 
gradually led forwards to more enlarged percep- 
tions and discriminations, respecting surrounding 
objects. It learns the names and uses of things, 
without any intentional application for the purpose; 
and makes accurate distinctions, before the su.biect 
knows that he is a rational being. At bow early 
a period does the child apply the appellations of 
J at Iter, /not her, brother^ iuter, uncle, aunt, CGUs'in, 

with 



12 



SOURCES OV 



with perfect precision, although totally ignorant of 
the characteristic distinctions belonging to these re- 
lations 1 

In such a manner is a larg^e stock of domestic 
and local knowledge treasured up in the mind, with- 
out any professed or conscious efforts of intellect ; 
a store, to which this mind has recourse in maturer 
age, as to a set of axioms in which the utmost con- 
fidence is reposed, and which never deceive. 

The attention of the young pupil becomes at 
length an intentional act. He begins to find delight 
in learning the nature and properties of no'cel ob- 
jects ; for he presumes that every thing familiar to 
him is sufficiently known. What is this ? what is it 
for ? who made it ? are pertinent questions, intro- 
ductoiy to future knowledge. By receiving a judi- 
cious solution of such queries will he make a rapid 
progress in the knowledge of existences, properties, 
uses, &c. 

Which leads us to the third source of knowledge 
we have mentioned. 

Section III. 

Obsermtion and Ejcperiencel 

Every thing which exists possesses properties. 
These are numerous and various, and they are in- 
cessantly 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 



13 



cessantly presenting themselves to our attention. 
Some are common to a] I bodies : others belong to 
particular substances ; that is, an aggregate number 
possess certain powers and properties in common, 
by which they are distinguished from others which 
possess in their turn properties peculiar to them- 
selves. These are moreover subjected to subdivi- 
sions and gradations, until we arrive at those cha- 
racteristic properties, by- which one individual sub- 
stance is discriminated from every other. The greater 
and minuter distinctions are so regular, that they 
are arranged by natural philosophers into classes, 
genera, species, varieties, &c. Thus are certain di- 
stinguishing principles obtained, in consequence of 
scientific investigations, and greatly facilitating their 
progress. 

The discovery of these generic and specific pro- 
perties, can alone be made by minute observation 
and minute comparison. 

The discovery is of great importance, because no 
one property in nature is perfecdy insulated and 
inert. Whatever exists may act upon other existent 
beings or substances. It must act according to the 
nature of its properties, producing a change in the 
state, relation, condition of the subject acted upon; 
and these changes may be injurious or beneficial to 
susceptible beings. 

The nature and extent of this influence, the man- 
ner 



14 



SOURCES or 



ner in which it is effected, and also the nature and 
the degree of the changes produced, are ascertained 
by experience, in union with those obsermtmis which 
experience may excite in reflecting minds. The most 
common effects cannot be known a priori. A child, 
or an untutored savage, knows not that a knife will 
cut, that fire will burn, that water will extinguish 
fire, &c. &c. 

The peculiar powers of nature are of such moment 
to personal well-being, or to the general good, that 
it is the leading, the worthy, the honourable object 
of science to discover them. They are so infinitely 
numerous and diversified, that astronomers, che- 
mists, mechanics, naturalists, botanists, physicians, 
metaphysicians, have been assiduously engaged for 
ages in the investigation of them ; while it is con- 
fessed and lamented, even in the present day, that 
the progress is comparatively small ! 

The general influence of bodies being first known, 
subsequent observations and diversified experience 
enable us to acquire the knowledge of particular in- 
fluences ; such as, for example, the different effects 
produced by the same agent upon similar substances, 
according to the strength or the weakness of its 
action ; and also the contrary effects which may be 
produced by the same agent upon different subjects. 
Thus may a certain degree of heat or of cold prove 
beneJiGial to bodies, while a considerable augmen- 
tation 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 



15 



tation of either may prove injurious: the heat which 
warms may also bum ; the cold which in a mode- 
rate degree may strengthen and invigorate, in ex- 
treme, will destroy : the heat which hardens clay will 
soften zva.v, Sec. 

Innumerable are the facts of this kind, of high 
importance to human welfare, of which the know- 
ledge is obtained by experience alone : without ex- 
perience the philosopher and the savage would be 
equally unknowing. 



Section IV. 

Of the Knowledge obtained by human Testimony, 

Human testimony is an extensive source of in- 
formation. Without its aid we should remain en- 
tirely ignorant of every event and transaction which 
preceded our own existence ; and of every occur- 
rence which takes place, or has taken place, at a di* 
stance from us, or that is not Vi^ithin the compass of 
our own personal knowledge. A confidence in hu- 
man testimony is tiierefore absolutely necessary to 
the enjoyment of the advantages to be derived from 
the social state. Without this there could not be a 
due accumulation of important truths, instructing 
the mind through the knowledge and experience of 

others, 



16 SOURCES OF 

others, and enabling us to direct our own conduct 
according to the information. 

But this mode of acquiring a knowledge of facts, 
is more liable to deception and imposition than 
either of the preceding. There are many pre-requi- 
sites to an implicit confidence in the assertions and 
statements of others. Many things handed down to' 
us from antiquity, under great and revered names, 
are extravagant, and totally unworthy of belief. 
Many things which were formerly believed to be au- 
thentic, — so authentic that incredulity has been re- 
sented and punished as a crime, — are now deserv- 
edly rejected as fabulous or absurd. 

By what criterion, then, shall we distinguish tmth 
from error in human testimony ? 

We must previously remark, that there is a. na- 
tural propensity in the human mind to love and to 
speak the truth. Lying is not a natural, but an 
acquired vice ; it is not, like some others, the ex- 
cess of an innate propensity, but it is in direct op- 
position to an innate propensity. It is very unusual 
for a child to tell a wilful falsehood, without some 
interested motive. It is mostly to conceal a fault 
in order to escape punishment ; sometimes to steal 
an advantage, but never from an inward hatred to 
truth. Whenever lying is become habitual to youth, 
it is either by the example of wicked associates, or 

the 



RATIONAL CONVICTIOIs^. 17 

the criminal deceits which have been practised upon 
him by indiscreet parents, or to their total igno- 
rance of the proper manner to direct the human 
mind. 

In consequence of this strong attachment to truth, 
children and inexperienced persons are always dis- 
posed to place an unbounded confidence in the as- 
sertions of others. The most practised liar expects 
implicit credulity in those whom he attempts to de- 
ceive; and the uninformed mind sees no absurdity in 
the most extravagant declarations. It will be sur- 
prised and astonished, but it will not readily doubt 
the veracity of the narrator. In this it has a much 
stronger faith than in the accuracy of its own judge- 
ment A natural propensity to believe in stories 
the most absurd, and in the wildest fables the ima- 
gination can invent, will continue until the narrator 
has been detected in a falsehood, or a considerable 
degree of progress in the knowledge of facts, or in 
ratiocination, has been made by the auditor. 

Here then is a principle founded in nature, which 
may be abused and trifled with, but it cannot be 
entirely subverted. This strong propensity to be- 
lieve in the declarations and veracity of others, can 
alone be checked by a more extensive acquaintance 
with human imperfections and human depravities, 
and by repeated discoveries of mistakes, gross er- 
rors, misrepresentations, and intentional deceptions. 

C These 



18 



SOURCES OF 



These causes may create suspicions, which have 
sometimes driven the mind into the opposite ex- 
treme ; into the indulgence of sceptical doubts upon 
eveiy subject, and even to a denial of the existence of 
truth. This, however, is not only unnatural, but it 
is palpably absurd ! It authorizes ignorance and error 
to destroy truth. It denies the existence of truth, be- 
cause men are imperfect or depraved ! Again, we can- 
not know^ that falsehood and error exist, but by the 
discovery of a truth. Every one who believes that 
falsehoods are detected, must believe in the facts 
which have led to the detection. We must there- 
fore believe in the existence of a truth, though we 
may in many cases be ignorant where it is to be 
found. 

Since there is a natural propensity to speak the 
truth, and to confide in the veracity of others, and 
since the commerce of human life peremptorily de- 
mands this confidence, it is much more becoming, 
and infinitely more useful, to inquire into the causes 
of those deceptions, and in what manner we can 
avoid their effects, than vainly to indulge scepti- 
cisms, which have a tendency, in their excess, to 
paralyse every action of our lives, coiTode every 
generous feeling of the heart, and render the intel- 
lectual faculties themselves, whose dignified office 
it is to discover truths, entirely useless. 

The origin of all error and falsehood may be 

ascribed 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 



19 



ascribed to absolute ignorance, with a presumption 
of knowing ; — misapprehensions ; — partial views of 
things, under the impression that the whole is com- 
pletely known ; — an improper bias of mind, of which 
the subject himself may be unconscious; — and final- 
ly, a studied intention to deceive. 

Absolute ignorance, however talkative, can make 
no report. Notwithstanding its pretensions, it knows 
nothing ; it ought to be silent, or to be disregarded 
when it speaks. A credulous mind soon thinks it- 
self duly informed, and it is eager to make a report 
with a superficial degree of knowledge. A lively 
imagination is prone to misrepresent or exaggerate 
facts, which, although they seem to point towards 
the object, are thus made to deviate frorn it, or to 
give a false colouring, which disguises their nature. 
Prejudices and predilections bring forwards nume- 
rous ideas in favour of particular opinions, without 
proper attention to adverse facts. Intentional de- 
ceptions may arise from that vanity, and conceit, 
which loves to aggrandize Self, or to sport with the 
credulity of others, or firom a still more culpable de- 
sign to defraud. 

Untruths, therefore, of every description may 
arise from an unintentional abuse, or a disingenuous 
and criminal use, of an important principle which 
is deeply rooted in human nature. These are doubt- 
less great impediments to the progress of know- 

c 2 ledge, 



20 



SOURCES OF 



ledge, but they have not the power to annihilate 
truth. Facts are of an imperishable nature. They 
may be Concealed, or lie unperceived in the bosom 
of time ; waiting, like seeds in the bosom of the 
earth, for the season favourable to their shooting 
forth and flourishing. The grand impediments to 
their propagation are to be subdued by a progress in 
mental improvement; by the removal of ignorance; 
by minute and impartial investigation ; by substi- 
tuting a sacred regard, not only for truth in gene- 
ral, but for accurate extensive knowledge, in the 
place of sanguine credulity, or superficial attention, 
a heated imagination, or the seductions of prejudice 
and partiality ; and finally, by holding up the wil- 
ful liar to the public detestation. 

It is obvious from the above remarks, that, in our 
researches after knowledge from human testimony, 
we should make ourselves acquainted with the cha- 
racter and peculiar bent of the historian or narra- 
tor, and proportion our degrees of confidence ac- 
cordingly. 

Many incidental circumstances will also facilitate 
or discourage our confidence in human testimony. 

The nature of an alleged fact will prepare tlie 
mind for admitting or rejecting it, and a stronger 
evidence is demanded in some cases than in others. 
If it be analogous to facts already known, it will 
appear probable^ and we shall be satisfied with 

slighter 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 



21 



slighter evidence than if the probability was against 
it. We shall argue, that causes which have pro- 
duced effects of a certain description, may produce 
others which are similar. But if the fact appear 
very extraordinary, or of a nature totally inexpe- 
rienced, the weight of evidence is expected to be 
extremely powerful. Knowledge most accurate, cha- 
racter most respectable, and veracity unimpeached, 
are deemed indispensable requisites. Again, a con- 
currence of evidence greatly strengthens testimony. 
It is more credible that an individual or a few per- 
sons should be deceived, or attempt to deceive, than 
that a large number should conspire together, where 
there is no appearance of a common interest in the 
deception. 

Thus, in physical phaenomena, those events which 
seem to oppose the laws of nature, where it is pre- 
sumed that these laws have been investigated, de^ 
mand a stronger evidence than the events which 
are more consonant with them. For example, the 
projection of stones by a volcanic eruption to an 
unusual height or distance, and of a magnitude be- 
fore unknown, will be more readily credited than 
the narrative of shozvers of stones having fallen in 
different parts of the world. In the one case, we 
have simply to admit an extraordinary exertion of 
a power- known to exist, concerning which no accu- 
rate measurement could have been taken, respect- 
ing 



£2 



SOURCES OF 



ing size or extent. The latter cannot be explained 
by any laws of nature already admitted. In this 
case, \^'e are not easily satisfied with the declarations 
made, even by respectable persons. We still su- 
spect there may be a delusion somewhere. Reite- 
rated evidences respecting such extraordinary phae- 
nomena; the strong assurances that they have taken 
place in various parts of the globe, and at different 
times, confirmed by all the force of respectable wit- 
nesses, begin at length to make a deep impression, 
not only upon the public mind in general, but also 
upon the cautious philosopher. It is argued, that so 
large a number of persons resident in places remote 
from each other, and living at distant periods, can- 
not conspire together to deceive the world ; can 
have no interest in the deception ; and that they 
are as competent to see these phasnomena as any 
other objects around them. It is now imagined 
that the laws of nature are not known to the extent 
which has been supposed. Philosophy is employed 
in more accurate investigations ; and it is expected 
that some chemical process in the atmosphere will 
ultimately furnish a solution. 

These facts present us, however, with a strong 
proof of the deep respect paid to human testimony, 
where no suspicions concerning competency in gain- 
ing intormadon, or the veracity of narrators, can 
justly be indulged. 

But 



RATIONAL CONVICTIOl^^-. 



23 



But nothing establishes human testimony in a 
manner more satisfactory, than other events which 
succeed to those which have been candidates for 
our belief, and which could not have taken place 
without their prior existence. Events and transac- 
tions thus circumstanced corroborate each other, 
and they form a continuity of evidence that is irre- 
sistible. We ourselves- are, in numerous cases, wit- 
nesses to a concurrence which could not have existed 
without antecedent causes. The Pyramids of Egypt, 
which still exist, manifest the antiquity, the popu- 
lation of the country, and the riches of its sove^ 
reigns. The mummies which are in our cabinets, 
confirm the reports of historians concerning the an- 
cient manner of embalming the dead. The tessel- 
lated pavements, Roman causeways, fortified sta- 
tions, &c. observable in many parts of Great Bri- 
tain, confirm the historical reports that the Romans 
had invaded these kingdoms, and obtained extensive 
conquests. The existence of ancient Greece, its 
renown for its cultivation of the arts of painting, 
architecture, and statuary, and the preeminence of 
the Grecians in intellectual endowments, are evinced 
by innumerable evidences before our eyes. 



Section 



24 



SOUKCES OF 



Section V. 

Of the Knowledge regained through the Medium 
of Memory. 

The knowledge acquired by either of the pre- 
ceding means could be of momentary use alone, 
had we not the power of reminiscence. It would 
be the same as if it had never existed. Although 
reminiscence is not the immediate source of infor- 
mation, yet it is a powerful retainer ; and it enables 
us to have recourse to treasures of knowledge, col- 
lected by our own experience, and from the infor- 
mation of others. Our powers of acting are thus 
greatly extended ; and it is an able director of our 
future conduct. By recollecting facts, we may re- 
collect their properties, and put these to the test of 
experience as circumstances shall require. By re- 
calling the qualities of objects, we may know how 
to employ those which are useful, and avoid the in- 
jurious. By tracing w'hat have been the conse- 
quences of different modes in thinking or acting, 
either respecting ourselves or others, we are enabled 
to foresee future results, which is so requisite for 
the discreet regulation of our own conduct, or ad- 
ministering of salutary counsel to others. By recol- 
lecting the important events of history^ we acquire 

a more 



EATIOISTAL CONVICTIO:\t. 



£5 



a more intimate knowledge of human nature : by 
observing what has been the state and conduct of 
men, and the consequences of their conduct, at a 
former period, we are frequently able to predict, as 
it were, the consequences which will necessarily re- 
sult from particular modes of conduct. But upon 
this head it would be superfluous to enlarge. 

The powers of memory are twofold. They con- 
sist in the actual reminiscence or recollection of 
past events, and in the power of retaining w^hat we 
have learned, in such a manner that it can be called 
into remembrance as occasions present themselves, 
or circumstances may require. 

^lemory and recollection have different degrees 
of facility, according to the apparent importance 
of the subject, the vividness of the impression, as- 
sociated ideas, &c. Thoughts from recollection fre- 
quently present themselves spontaneously ; some- 
times with considerable difficulty ; and sometimes 
we are convinced that a latent idea exists, which 
we are not able to bring into accurate recollection. 
Many also are the instances, where certain facts or 
incidents may have made but a slight impression 
upon us at the time ; yet they have been deposited 
in the sensorium or seat of memory, and have re- 
mained for years in an inert state, until some unex- 
pected circumstances shall evince that they were 
not obliterated. Objects which we had once seen, 

sounds 



26 



SOURCES OF 



sounds which we had once heard, or sentiments ut- 
tered, seldom appear to us as perfect strangers upon 
reiteration. This'' indicates that they have made 
some change in the state of our reminiscent facul- 
ties, without the possibility of our ascertaining the 
nature or the physical cause of the change. 

The physical laws of reminiscence have hitherto 
escaped our researches. Being under the necessity 
of having recourse to metaphorical language, taken 
from sensible objects, to express abstract ideas, or 
to discourse upon abstract subjects, we are insen- 
sibly led to substitute words for things. In the sub- 
ject before us, the words which are in common cur- 
rency are supposed to be perfectly appropriate ; and 
thus we deceive ourselves into a belief that we pos- 
sess more accurate knowledge concerning the mode 
of Reminiscence, than facts will justify. All the ob- 
jects of our knowledge are said to make an i??tpreS' 
sion upon the mind ; and as the brain is the allotted 
seat of the mind, the impression is supposed to re- 
main inscribed or indented upon that organ : and 
the mind is supposed to have recourse to these im- 
pressions as the occasion may demand, as to some- 
thing inscribed in a book. Hence subtile theories 
have been invented to explain the phaenomena of 
memory. The brain has been considered as a tablet, 
upon which images are traced or imprinted, in re- 
serve for the uses of the thinking powers. 

We 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 27 

We should be distrustful of metaphorical expres- 
sions. They may, it is true, indicate some points 
of resemblance, existing in subjects essentially dif- 
ferent in their nature ; but, by urging them too far, 
we may mistake them for literal facts. The words 
impression, inscription., Sec. manifest our opinions 
that there is some sort of analogy between thoughts 
treasured up in the mind, and those inscribed in 
a book : there is in each case a deposit, to which 
we may have a recourse as occasions require ; but 
when we descend into minutiae, the analogy vanishes. 
The substance of the brain is not of a consistence 
for such impressions or inscriptions. Its compass 
is too confined to retain, in so mechanical a man- 
ner, all that infinitude of thought with which the 
mind may be enriched. The immense mass of know- 
ledge collected by the assiduous student during a 
long course of years, the numerous and lotty ideas 
of the learned and sublime philosopher, must be 
supposed to suffer a compression not less miracu- 
lous than that to which Milton has made the nume- 
rous fallen angels submit in their pandemonium, or 
there must be a want of space for the accommoda- 
tion of the congregated hosts. 

Again. Impressions, from which the metaphor 
is taken, always cori^espond with their prototype. 
Here also the analogy fails. If the supposed simi- 
larity existed, we should remember with a mechanic 

accuracy. 



28- 



SOURCES OF 



accuracy. Where these impressions have been 
made by the use of words, these words must be as 
distinctly registered as the ideas they convey. The 
impression upon the tablet can no more deviate 
from the original, than the printed sheet can deviate 
from its types ; and we should recollect the terms 
of a treatise with the same accuracy, as we are able 
to retain the sentiments it conveys. Whereas, when 
we retain the ideas, we mostly dismiss the terms ; 
and we clothe these ideas in words of our own, in 
our attempts to communicate them to others. We 
imbibe them frequently from ancient or foreign lan^- 
guageSy without our being able to express a single 
phrase in these languages. 

May we not remark also, that the system of me- 
chanic impression upon the tablets of the brain, to 
which the mind may advert at its will, must also 
admit that this mind should be furnished with a 
certain apparatus for reading these inscriptions ? It 
must possess some metaphorical or metaphysical 
eyes, without which all the benefits of the impress 
sion would be lost. 

The above objections, poweiful as they are, simply 
respect the recollection of facts which have been 
conveyed to the mind through the medium of 
vision. But how shall we explain the impressions 
made by the instrumentality of the other senses ? 
We distinctly recollect the tastes of sour, bitter, 

sweet, 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 29 

sweet, and the smell of particular odours. In what 
manner can these impressions have beeh made upon 
the tablet ? Do they retouch the papillae of the 
tongue every time we remember them? We re- 
collect that some bodies are sharp, obtuse, hard, 
soft, without the possibility of supposing that re- 
membrance exists in a correspondent state in the 
seat of memory. Mu^ch knowledge and instruction 
is communicated by oral language ; that is, by the 
voice creating certain vibrations in the air, as nu- 
merous and as various as the ideas they convey. 
They execute the commission, die upon the ear, 
and leave philosophers in ignorant amazement ! 

It is much safer, not to place speculations of this 
kind in the class either of wisdom or of knowledge ; 
and to confine ourselves to facts, which always pos- 
sess an intrinsic importance*'. 

Although we may be unable to explain the phae- 
Homenon of memory, of this we are assured, that 
events which we can distinctly recollect, are as con- 
vincing to ourselves as the existence of objects which 
are before our eyes. I am as certain that 1 went 
to bed last night as that I am using the pen this 
morning. Persons in the full enjoyment of their 
faculties are always able to distinguish past events, 
to which they have been witnesses, from the illu- 
sions of fancy, or the scenes which present them- 

* See Note A. ' 

iselves 



so SOURCES OF 

selves to the imagination in a dream. We may 
have forgotten the process by which we were pri- 
marily enabled to discriminate, and by which we 
are become so accurate in our discriminations ; but 
there has been a process. A young child often mis- 
takes. If he dreams that he has received the pre- 
sent of a toy, he expects to find it when awake. 
The first dream I recollected, was, that a friend had 
given me a pony ; nor could I be pacified by any 
assurances that it was only a dream. Attentive pa- 
rents might collect many instances of this kind, as 
well as of numberless others, when the young ideas 
first begin to shoot a judicious selection of which 
would afford richer materials for the history of hu- 
man intellect than have hitherto been enjoyed. 

The early delusion must vanish, w^here the mind 
is not in a perpetual delirium. The child cannot 
realize, or bring into action, the objects of his dreams, 
as he can those which have a permanent existence. 
The former he leaves in his bed, and they sink into 
oblivion, while he enjoys or acts upon the other 
during the whole of the day ; it may be, the whole 
of his life. 

The distinction between dreams and realities, be- 
comes strongly marked as we advance in the experi- 
ence of years. A coNTlNUlTYis observed, and a cor- 
respojidcnce between scenes of actual existence, which 
can never be found in the phantoms of the brain. 

From 



RATIONAL COJ^^VICTION. 31 

From the few incidental delusions which have 
been detected, an attempt has been made to dis- 
credit the reports of memory altogether, kindly ad- 
monishing us to place no confidence in what has 
sometimes deceived. 

This kind advice is founded on the following ar- 
gument, as we know from experience that de- 
ceptions have sometimes existed, they may always 
exist." The proper answer to this statement is, that 
they may not always exist ; and therefore it is worth 
while to make a trial, whether the objection be ap- 
plicable to every case or not. Concerning the is- 
sue, scepticism itself cannot doubt ; for, let the ob- 
jector act upon his own principles ; let him never 
confide in his memory ; but, in the common habits 
of life, let him distrust every fact of which he thinks 
that he has a recollection ; and we shall find it dif- 
ficult to distinguish between the delusions of a ma- 
niac and the precautions of a philosopher. 

Here we may also urge, that there can be no me- 
thod of detecting a delusion in some cases, but by 
being convinced of realities in others. We could 
not form an idea of a deception, if we were always 
deceived. It is a deviation from the usual tenor, 
which convinces us of a possibiliti/ in some cases^s 
and an impossibiUty in alL 

Section" 



32 



SOURCES or 



Section VI. 

Another Mode of aequiring Knoxvledge is by way 
of Inference and logical Deduction, 

To a perception that things exist, and of their 
immediate influence upon us, succeeds an attention 
to the nature and extent of their influence ; and to 
simple experience is added the exercise of our rea- 
son. If the infant should burn his fingers by pla- 
cing them too near to the flame of a candle, it will 
not repeat the act ; and the child that has cut him- 
self in playing with a knife, will become more cau- 
tious in the future. Here is evidently the dawn of 
reason. The apprehension that what has once hurt 
may hurt again, is so instantaneous, that no formal 
process in the exercise of the rational faculties is 
called in for aid. The river which has drowned 
one person, will soon be thought capable of drown- 
ing another ; and the fire which has destroyed one 
tenement, will be supposed to possess the power of 
destroying many more. An opinion is immediately 
formed, that whatever has happened may happen 
again in similar circumstances ; and this opinion 
will be confirmed by repeated experience, until it 
shall be admitted as an indubitable axiom ; and upon 
this axiom we shall habitually act, without hesita- 
tion, 



ilATIOlSrAL CONVICTION"* 35 



tibn, and without feeling the necessity of calling it 
into recollection. First principles introduce habits ; 
and expertness acquired by habit subsequently ren- 
ders a recourse to first principles unnecessary. A 
skilful musician no longer thinks of the gamut which 
has made him skilful ; and the man who speaks a 
language fluently^ and with the most perfect preci- 
sion, may h^ve forgotten the rules of grammar which 
introduced precision. 

An early confidence in principles thus formed, 
encourages an incipient reasoner to proceed a step 
further ; and he will venture to draw inferences from 
app,arent similarities, amidst concealed differences* 
But at the commencement he must, in many in* 
stances, reason erroneously. Because he has seen 
fire consume some substances, he argues that it will 
consume every substance ; not having as yet learned 
to distinguish between. combustibles and incombus^ 
tibles. He will infer that, as water has drowned 
some animals, it will drown emry animal, until he 
perceives that the swan and the duck enjoy, \vith^ 
safety, the element that is fatal to fowls of a diffe- 
rent species and to quadrupeds ; or that it is es- 
sential to the life of the finny tribe. The metapho- 
rical language to which lively and untutored minds 
are naturally disposed, proceeds from the strong im- 
pression of resemblances, without a perception of 
the differences. Errors arising from this source are 

D subse- 



34 



SOURCES OF 



subsequently corrected by observation and expe- 
rience, which in the process so greatly augment our 
stock of knowledge. 

A combination of circumstances is frequently ne- 
cessary to produce a particular event. This is also 
a fact which could not be known a priori: but when 
known, it becomes the foundation of many impor- 
tant inferences. The reasoner concludes, that when 
circumstances are similar they will produce a simi- 
lar result ; and a confidence in this apparent simi- 
larity encourages him boldly to pronounce or de- 
cide. But not always with equal success ; for, in^ 
complicated cases, the similarities may not be so 
perfect as had been imagined, and imperceptible 
differences may render the inference drawn inap- 
plicable. This subject is illustrated by the evidences 
which are sometimes given in a court of judicature, 
in cases of great intricacy, which embarrass the 
most discerning minds, respecting the guilt or in- 
nocence of the party accused. 

The knowledge which is thus acquired, is soon 
converted into a principle of action. The idea is 
soon suggested, that as one substance, quality, or 
act, is productive of some determinate issues, it may 
be conducive to some desired end ; and it is readily 
inferred, that what one person has done, another may 
learn to perform. The whole amusement of active 
cliildren consists in these combinations and imita- 
tions. 



RATIOiSrAL CONVICTION-. 



35 



tions. It is their delight t6 do what they see others 
do ; and it is their pride to excel their comrades in 
such attempts. The little peasant amuses himself 
with making caps of bulrushes, and garlands of 
cowslips and daisies. The female group eagerly 
surround their domestic toys, visiting each other with 
their tea-things and their dolls. The young squire 
has his miniature coach and horses ; the plebeian, 
his horse, cart, and waggon. A regiment of sol- 
diers quartered in a district, immediately fills it with 
drums, trumpets, grenadiers' caps, w ooden guns and 
swords ; and the infant troop boldly march at the 
word of command. Lively and healthy school-boys 
are always delighted with those exercises which call 
forth skill and agility ; which render them expert 
in running, leaping, bowling, catching of balls, &c. 
In all these exercises they are learning, to a consi- 
derable extent, the nature, properties, powers, and 
uses of things, and acquiring a dexterity in the 
application of tiiem to purposes of future utility* 
The stripling cannot whip his top to make it spin, 
or beat his hoop to make it run in the direction he 
wishes, without being taught that continued and 
skilful action are necessary to keep them in the de- 
sired motion; and when the infant female is em- 
ployed in making ornaments for her doll, she is im- 
perceptibly imbibing notions of adaptation and suit- 
ability. Thus, while the young mind is assiduously 

D 2 taught 



S6 



SOURCES OF 



taught in the school-room what is to be of service 
in future years, from the wisdom of others, it be- 
comes in its playful hours the pupil of nature, and 
is initiated, to a considerable extent, in the important 
science of jadaptations. 

The laws of Adaptation, by which are understood 
those properties in bodies, or in substances, by which 
they are capacitated to act upon other bodies or 
substances, with an influence correspondent to their 
natures, are the grand laws by which the inanimate 
creation becomes a blessing to the animate ; and 
by which alone animated beings can become a bless- 
ing to each other. 

The more we contemplate the system we inhabit, 
the more forcibly shall we perceive a beautiful adap- 
tation of individual properties to the production of 
the general good. Astronomy discovers the nicest 
adjustments and balancings of powers in the solar sy- 
stem ; and every part of the terraqueous globe illus- 
trates the doctrine. The ocean is replete with animals 
adapted to the element; and its vapours are adapted 
to the necessities of animals destined to reside on 
the solid earth. The enlivening and invigorating 
ray3 of the sun, the showers of heaven, the chilling 
frost, &c. are adapted to the contexture of the land ; 
and different portions of the earth are adapted to 
their genial influence. Animals, both by bodily 

confor- 



RATIONAL CONVICTION-. 3T 



conformations and varied instincts, are adapted to 
inhabit different elements and different climes, where 
they find food adapted to their respective conforma- 
tions and propensities. 

In imitation of these beneficent laws of nature, 
and by a wise application of powers and properties^ 
Man also is rendered able to form the most use- 
ful adaptations. The powers and properties of na- 
ture are employed ir) every machine constructed for 
facilitating human labour, or for producing effects 
to which human labour is inapplicable. To the ju- 
dicious direction of powers and properties we are 
indebted for all the instruments of agriculture, of 
manufactories, navigation, of chemistry, and the in- 
finitude of uses to which they are applied for the 
protection, support, enjoyments we posses3 ; for 
the habitations in which we dwell, with all theip 
accommodations and elegancies :— in a word, for 
all the useful arts, and the whole circle of thg 
sciences^ 

In the most familiar scenes of life the law is 
perpetually operative, although perpetually disre- 
garded. We never attend to the adaptation of a 
knife to the cutting of our food, until it has lost its 
edge, that is, its adaptation ; nor of our food to the 
instrument, if it can be penetrated with ease ; nor 
of the teeth to masticate, unless some incident 
should occasionally disqualify them for the office ; 

m 



S8 



SOURCES OF 



nor of the food to the purposes of nutrition, until 
we become alarmed at indigestions. Ink is adapted 
to make certain characters ; the paper is adapted 
to receive them ; the characters are adapted to 
convey some information to the mind, through the 
organs of sight or of hearing, v/hich are wonder- 
fully adapted to convey intelligence to a mind as 
wonderfully adapted to receive it ! ! 

What an inexhaustible fund of knowledge and 
of experience is treasured up in consequence of this 
constitution of things! It is the source of all the 
practical knowledge in the universe, and of the pro- 
gressive improvement of the human race in every 
thing that is useful ! 

It is from the constant operations of these in- 
fluential powers that we derive our ideas of Cause 
and Effect. Of these it is an important branch of 
philosophy to have just conceptions. 

We term that the cause which is the efficient 
agent .; the effect is that which results from its 
agency. • In point of time they must be synchro- 
nous ; but the agent has a priority in our concep- 
tions; although it is not a cause until the effect is 
produced. Before the effect is produced, that which 
we term the cause was an existing something pos- 
sessing the power of causation ; and it is in this that 
its apparent superiority consists : whereas that which 

%\'e 



RATIONAL CONVICTIOlSr. 39 

we denominate an effect, was a non-entity before its 
cause brought it into being. When the parent gives 
existence to the child, the two characters are created 
at the same instant, though the person of the parent 
had an existence before the offspring was in being. 

It is scarcely necessary to observe, that what- 
ever is in one connexion an effect, may in another 
become a cause. The successive generations of men 
sufficiently illustrate the fact. 

Such is the concatenation in nature, and such the 
agency of various properties, that many causes may 
contribute to the production of one effect. The 
immediately efficient cause w^as also the effect of a 
prior cause, and that of some other prior agent ; 
and had there been an interruption in any one link 
of the vast chain, the recent effect could not have 
existed. 

Philosophers have attempted to arrange the dif- 
ferent causes under distinct heads ; but these are 
too numerous to admit of precision. They speak 
of the remote, the occasional, the predisposing, the 
proximate cause. The latter immediately produces 
the effect; the occasional is some incidental cir- 
cumstance which, as it were, interposes, and gives 
efficiency to the proximate; the predisposition is 
seated in the subject, and prepares jt for a particu? 
lar influence. Every theist refers the whole con- 
catenation 



40 



SOURCES OF 



catenation to a Jii^st cause, itself uncaused; and a 
perception that some wise and beneficent design is 
in the contemplation of the universal agent, sug^ 
gests the idea of a Jinal cause. 

In the doctrine of causation the following may 
be advanced as axioms : 

I. There is no effect without a cause. This is 
indisputable ; for the idea of a cause is included 
in that of an effect. If there were no cause, there 
could be no effect, 

II. The cause must be equal to the effect. This 
is also self-evident ; if it were not, it could not pro^ 
duce the effect, 

III. The nature of a cause is to be ascertained 
by the nature of the effect. It is known from its 
particular adaptations, manifested in the effect. We 
cannot see sound, nor hear light. There must be 
something in the nature of sound, by which it is 
adapted to produce its effects upon the organs of 
hearing ; and something in the conformation of 
these organs, in order to produce the perception of 
sound, Light and colour are not sonorous in their 
natures ; but they are rendered visible by organs 
expressly adapted to the purpose. When we know 
that a ponderous body has been projected to a di- 
stance with great velocity, we know that the cause 
possesses ^ great degree of momentum or propul- 
sive 



RATIONAL CONVICTIOlSr. 



41 



sive force. When we contemplate a complicated 
machine adapted to particular purposes, we trace 
design and ingenuity in the designing agent. 

IV. A cause exactly similar, in circumstances 
exactly similar, must produce exactly similar effects. 
If similar effects be not produced, there must be 
something which prevents, in the latter case, which 
did not exist in the former ; and consequently cir- 
cumstances are not exactly similar. 

V. Where there are not manifestations that there 
is something in the nature of an effect, to exhaust 
the power from which it results, a possibility exists 
that it remains equal to the production of other ef- 
fects of a similar nature. The explosion of the 
same mine cannot be repeated ; the operative power 
has exhausted itself ; nor is the arrangement of nrd" 
terials any longer adapted to the effect. But a de- 
signing cause cannot be exhausted, so long as its 
intellects remain unimpaired. The architect who 
has built one edifice, retains the faculty of building 
others. The skill of a painter or statuary is not 
expended in a single production of his art, although 
he m9,y not always be equally skilfuL The powers 
qf a strong mind are as inexhaustible as the store 
of its ideas, and those various combinations of which 
they are susceptible. 

VI. Every property may become a cause. The 
properties oT things are solely known by the effects 

they 



42 



SOURCES OF 



they have produced. When we see the light, we 
not only know that it exists, but that its property 
is to render objects visible. We cannot conceive 
of any thing, or of any being, totally destitute of in- 
fluential properties. The most inert matter occu- 
pies a portion of space, by which property it ex- 
cludes every other body. 

VII. Every subject possessing various proper- 
ties may be productive of various effects. 

This necessarily results from the preceding pro- 
position. Since every property is capable of be- 
coming a cause, effects may be increased accord- 
ing to the number of properties. 

VIII. Some effects can alone be produced by 
the united influence of various causes. This is not 
a self-evident proposition ; it is known by expe- 
rience. How many circumstances must combine 
for the production of a plentiful harvest ! Posses- 
sion of land, bringing it into tilth, sowing of grain, 
the quality of the seed, the natural and artificial 
goodness of the soil, favourable weather, Sec. must 
each contribute to the desired effect. 

IX. Nothing can be a cause prior to its own 
existence. This would imply an action without an 
agent ; it would ascribe a power to non-entity which 
destroys the idea of non-entity. 

Some, who have assumed the title of philosophers, 

profess 



RATIONAL CONVICTIOIS^. 43 

profess to disbelieve in tlie doctrine of causation : 
— we say have assumed the title, because, strictly 
speaking, their claim to it may be disputed. The pro- 
fessed object of a philosopher is to study the la^vs of 
nature : — now the laws of nature can alone consist 
in the operations of cause and effect; and if these do 
not exist, there can be no philosopher. But to wave 
this consideration. They attempt to weaken the con- 
fidence which has been uninterruptedly reposed in 
the influence of causes, by ascribing what is usually 
deemed an effect from some determinate cause, to 
an habitual coincidence of two circumstances, which 
may have a conjunction, but not an influential con- 
nexion with each other. These, it is said, by pre- 
senting themselves at the sam.e instant, have se- 
duced a credulous world into the opinion that the 
one exerted a power over the other. Thus, I send 
a summons to a friend to meet me at an appointed 
hour. He appears ; and I too hastily conclude 
that my message was the cause of his appearance ; 
whereas I afterwards learn that he came sponta- 
neously, not having received the m.essage. By such 
coincidences I am. advised to doubt whether any 
man ever obeyed a summons ; and to conclude that 
perpetual coincidences explain all the phaenomena 
we ascribe to cause and effect ! We might ask, what 
has been the cause of the universal opinion that one 
thing produces another ? Did this opinion arise of 

itself, 



44 



SOURCES OP 



itself, instantaneously and spontaneously, in every 
breast that indulges the notion, the moment a parti- 
cular object appeared ? What is the cause which gave 
rise to this whimsical hypothesis? Was it not anoccar 
sional coincidence ? W^hat created the coincidence ? 
Was there not some cause to which the appearance 
of the party at that moment must be ascribed r Let 
the philosophers of this school endeavour to esta- 
blish any principle whatever, without the use of 
those terms, which according to their system would 
be impertinent, z/J because^ iince^ muequently, oc.r 
casionecl, created^ pmduced, &c., all of which not 
only respect a conjunction and a connexion, but 
an i)ifluence. We must also remark, that the in- 
stances frpm which these extravagant inferences ai'e 
deduced very seldom occur. They are compara^ 
tively rare. Innumerable are the cases in which 
the doctrine of coincidence is inapplicable. Did 
these theorists never cut their fingers with sharp, 
instruments, or prick their legs by passing among 
briars and thoras ? Or will they plead for coinci- 
dence in such cases ? Will they venture to plunge 
into the ocean in honour of their conjunctive sy- 
stems ; and deny that suffocation in water will be 
the cause of their death ? Or will they think it 
of no moment to prevent a man from rushing 
into the flames, for they could not burn him ? or, 
should he be destroyed^ it would be merely a co- 
incidence^ 



RATIONAL CONVICTIO^^-. 



45 



incidence^ upon which the desperate act had not art 
influente ? 

We ivill also remind the abettors of such whiin- 
sical conceits, that they cannot attempt to establish 
their principles without confuting them. Should 
any one become a proselyte to their opinions, they 
must not ascribe the honour to the force of their 
arguments ; for this would be to admit a cause. 
They are compelled to confess, that the same opi- 
nion incidentally sprung up in the mind of an ap- 
parent proselyte, while he liappened to be hearing 
or reading the arguments in its favour ! 

It is not difficult to discover the motive for this 
egregious triiilng. A favourite hypothesis is in^ 
danger. If causes and effects exist, there must be nu- 
merous agents iri the universe, which would destroy 
the ideal philosophy. Such an host of witnesses 
must not be admitted to give evidence. An alibi 
cannot be urged^ for this would be still to acknow- 
ledge their existence. Nothing can satisfy but their 
total annihilation. Therefore no one being, sub- 
stance, or attribute, is to e:iist, except in the mind 
of one sole idealist. A single companion cannot 
be admitted ; for there would be incessant disputes 
"which possessed the real existence ; and each in his 
turn would pronounce the other to be a mere im- 
pression upon his own mind 1 But these absurdi- 
ties will be more fully examined in another place. 

Our 



46 



SOURCES OF 



Our daily experience in physical influences, and 
our advancements in the knowledge of properties 
peculiar to different bodies, finally render the mind 
so familiar with these properties, that we are able 
to contemplate them in a state of separation from 
the substance, through the medium of which we 
obtained the knowledge of their existence. Abs- 
tract subjects are thus submitted to our investiga- 
tions, and to all the laws of ratiocination, equally 
with the objects of sense. Although it is from our 
perception of the influence of one body upon an- 
other that we derive the idea of power, for example, 
yet we can separate this idea from specific agen- 
cies, and speak of it as if it w^ere an independent 
being. We make ourselves acquainted with the 
different kinds of power in various bodies, parti- 
cular modes and decrees of their ooeration, bene- 
ficial or pernicious tendencies, until we are able to 
digest into a code the laws by which bodies are go- 
verned, according to their specific nature ; such as 
the laws of mechanics, hydrostatics, chemistry, kc, 
and to ti'eat of them as distinct sciences. The 
powers of attmction, so completely concealed from 
all our senses, are as perceptible to the mind as if 
they possessed sensible qualities. We .speak of the 
attraction of gravitation, of cohesion, of chemical 
affinities, with as much perspicuity as if they were 
visible to the eye. We discover the laws by which 

they 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 



47 



they are governed, calculate the degrees of their 
force, according to distances, velocities, solid con- 
tents, &c. The pneumatic chemist makes accurate 
experiments upon substances which escape every 
sense, and manifest their existence only by their 
influences upon sensible objects. Confiding in the 
maxims, that every effect must have a cause, and 
that the nature of the cause is to be ascertained 
from the naure of the effect, he ventures to arrange 
these invisibles and intangibles under certain deter- 
minate classes, as if they were palpable bodies. The 
intellectual powers of man are also able to contem- 
plate negative qualities, as if they w^ere the attri- 
bute of existing substances. They reason and cal- 
culate concerning the velocity and intenseness of 
a shadow, which is no other than the absence of 
light in a given spot ; and they discourse about space^ 
which is a professed non-entity, as if it were a ves- 
sel rendered sufficiently capacious to contain all the 
beings in the universe ! 

The operations and affections of the Mind are 
also subjected to investigations of a satisfactory na- 
ture. We can reason about intellect, as if it had an 
existence separate from the being who possesses it. 
We discriminate between perception, comprehen- 
sion, reflection, reasoning, judgement, &c. with a 
facility equal to that observable in the assortment 
of material substances. Upon observing the influx 

ence 



48 



SOURCES OF 



ence of circumstances which affect and agitate th^ 
mind, we are enabled distincdy to analyse its diffe- 
rent passions and emotions ; and to draw important 
inferences respecting their influence on personal or 
social happiness, their excitements, subjugations, 
moral character, &c., and we can adduce principles 
of action correspondent to the nature of each af^ 
fection. 

By discovering what are the chief sources of our 
Well-being, either as individuals or as members of so- 
ciety, what it is which best promotes or disturbs hu* 
man felicity, we learn to characterize certain disposi- 
tions and actions productive of good as "virtues, and 
their opposites as vices. We become so familiarized 
with the terms, in their discriminating acceptations, 
that the necessity ceases of explaining what we are 
to understand by the one or the other, as often as we 
refer to the actions correspondent with each. When 
w^e assert that vice is productive of misery, and vir- 
tue leads to happiness, the terms become as it were 
telegraphic ; they are perfectly intelligible to minds 
duly instructed, without the necessity of an expla- 
natory circumlocution. 

Nor are our investigations limited to the quali- 
ties of human beings, intellectual and moral. We 
discover those of our Maker, to w^hich we have given 
the title of natural and moral attributes. We con- 
sider the system of the universe as a stupendous 

etieet 



NATIONAL CONVICTIOlSr. 49 

effect from an omnipotent cause. Its various parts 
bear the strongest marks of a creative power : they 
are obviously productions. We recollect that no 
eiffect can be without an adequate cause ; that the 
nature of the cause must be known from the effect. 
Applying these principles to creation, we acknow- 
ledge a power above us great beyond conception ! 
The more we contemplate this creation, and the in- 
numerable adaptations of its component parts, the 
more distincdy do we perceive marks of design, of 
a wise design, for purposes beneficial to the innume- 
rable multitudes of sensitive and perceptive beings 
which inhabit the earth. In the process of our in- 
vestigations, we finally arrive at principles the most 
sublime, solemn, and important. We confess the 
existence of a Cause, himself uncaused, universally 
present, universally active, irresistible in power, un- 
limited in his knowledge, unening in his wisdom^ 
and of infinite benignity ! 

Thus we are enabled, by ratiocination and lo- 
gical deductions, to discover truths innumerable; 
truths of the highest importance ; truths of a phy- 
sical nature, by which feeble man has brought the 
mighty powders of created bodies under his own con- 
troul, and made them subservient to the most im- 
portant purposes ; truths of a moral and religious 
nature, which are conducive to our present comfort, 

E excite 



50 



SOURCES OF 



excite the most cheerful hopes, and prepare feeble 
mortals for permanent felicity. 

The remarks on the powers of the human mind^ 
to acquire such important knowledge by legitimate 
deductions, are naturally calculated to inspire us 
with an exalted sense of our superiority to the brute 
creation, and may dispose us to exult in the pre- 
eminence. But there are laws in our nature well 
calculated to suppress the emotions of pride. Al- 
though we are rendered capable of penetrating 
deeply into subjects which are so profound, and to 
soar such lofty heights above every other sublunary 
being, we are destined to pass through many afflic- 
tive errors before we can arrive at the discovery of 
truths, so essential to our well-being. We are born 
in ignorance dark and deep ; Avith faculties unexer- 
cised, and requiring the most favourable situations 
and circumstances for their advantageous develope- 
ment. After the attention has been awakened, much 
time is requisite, and many difficulties are to be sur- 
mounted, before we are enabled to acquire a know- 
ledge of those facts, or to comprehend those truths, 
upon which our progress in well-being depends. 
Upon entering into life as individuals, and also in 
the infancy of social intercourse, we are placed in 
a school where v/e have every thing to learn ; and 
where the most docile mind is no more capable of 

thinking 



RATIONAL CONVICTIO^T. 



51 



thinking or of judging rightly, in its early attempts, 
than the school-boy is capable of writing a legible 
hand, when he first takes up the pen ; or of solving a 
problem in geometry, while he is totally ignorant 
of the science. 

There is some danger also, lest, in this school, we 
should be under the direction of tutors whose know- 
ledge is partial and limited, or who may possibly 
have themselves embraced egregious errors for im- 
portant truths ; and may thus mislead, when the 
design was to instruct. In our own attempts to 
reason, how liable are we to mistake partial docu- 
ments for extensive information ; subordinates for 
principals ; and from slight resemblances to con- 
found things which differ essentially 1 In a word, 
we are destined to work our way through ignorance 
and error ; to wade through our own mistakes, and 
also the mistakes or wilful misrepresentations of 
others ; and to purchase knowledge at the expense 
of long and painful experience. 

But, so wonderful are the human faculties in their 
nature ; such strength do they acquire in their exer- 
cise and developement; so numerous are the sources 
of information ; with such eagerness does the awa- 
kened mind seek after knowledge ; so intimately are 
multitudes associated in the ardent pursuit, that 
great advances have been made : and the prospect 
is -now become most encouraging. By mutual exer- 

E 2 tions, 



52 



SOUIICES OF 



tions, and the unremitted exercise of our intellec- 
tual faculties, ignorance and error may finally be 
subdued ; truths most interesting to humanity be 
widely diffused, and manifest their importance by 
conducing to universal happiness ! 



Section VII. 
Mathematical Evidence. 

The mathematics, as a science, present us with 
another instance of the extensive knowledge which 
is to be acquired by the power of abstraction. Not 
only do the more essential and characteristic pro- 
perties of bodies enrich the mind with useful know- 
ledge ; but the relative states of bodies, their ex- 
ternal shape, and conformations, their proportions, 
and the various arrangements of their parts, become 
the subjects of investigation, distinct from the bodies 
to w hich they appertain. Even the combinations 
of units, their proportionate augmentations and di- 
minutions, are submitted to the most accurate in- 
quiry. Algebraists treat of numericals, abstracted 
from the substances whose pluralities first suggested 
the idea of numbers, with an unerring precision. 

The mathematical science, notwithstanding its 
abstracted nature, is of . all others considered as the 
aiQst certain and satisfactory. It depends not upon 

a tena- 



KATIOlSrAL CONVICTION. 6$ 

a tenacious memory, nor upon the veracity of man ; 
it cannot be confounded widi the visions of the 
brain ; nor is it liable to those mis-statements and 
deceptions which are so frequently obvious in lo^ 
gical deductions. Here we speak with confidence 
of demonstrafion ; and perhaps it is the only con- 
nexion in which the term can be used with strict 
propriety. 

The more simple parts of this science are so ob- 
vious, that they are immediately familiarized to the 
mind; and as the attention they require is extremely 
slight, they are not only admitted as indubitable 
axioms, but are also considered as self-evident . 
This, however, is seldom the case, if it be in any 
instance. ' Strictly speaking, can any thing be said 
to be self-evident, exclusive of sensible objects ? A 
man can advance no arguments to prove that he 
sees, hears, smells, and feels, stronger than the re- 
port of his senses ; but whatever is not an immediate 
object of sense, requires a certain degree of thought. 
It requires a process, to which self-evidence cannot 
be applied, in its literal sense, though it is by courtesy 
as expressive of extremely quick perception. Should 
the truth of this observation be doubted, we may 
still assert, without the fear of confutation, that nu- 
merous axioms which are currently received as first 
principles, and as it were prior to all reasoning, have 
originally gone through a process which has escaped 

the 



54 



SOURCES OF 



the memory. Many axioms and undoubted apho- 
risms become current, in consequence of their hav- 
ing received the authoritative stamp of proof, until 
it is no longer necessary to examine the stamp be- 
fore we pass the coin. A principle, of which the 
inverse is shown to be a contradiction or an ab- 
surdity, may safely be admitted as a first principle, 
or as the basis of others ; but a certain process in 
mental exertion is necessary before the absurdity or 
contradiction can be made manifest. This may be 
so rapid as to escape the attention of the mind, 
eagerly occupied by its object ; and so familiar, that 
it too frequently escapes the philosopher. 

It is asked, " Who will pretend to prove the ma- 
thematical axiom, that a whole is greater than a 
part ? Or that things equal to one and the same 
thing are equal to each other*?"' 

I answer. That had this not been undertaken by 
some one, neither of the propositions would have 
been admitted into the class of axioms. They are 
familiar to the philosopher, but not to a child, or to 
the adult, unaccustomed to subjects of the kind. A 
child will not at first understand what you mean by 
a whole or a part. This must be shown and ex- 
plained to him. In the next place, let him be de- 
prived of one-half of his orange, and he will readily 
confess that he has not the whole. He will now 

* Dr. Beattie on Truth. 

compre- 



IIATIONAL CONVICTION". 



65 



comprehend that by the whole you understand all 
that belongs to the orange ; by a part you mean 
that something has been taken away. He will now 
perceive a contradiction in the assertion that the 
whole retains its entireness, when a portion of it is 
cut off ; and where his interest is concerned, the 
greatest dunce will remember the axiom. In like 
manner the child must know what is to be under- 
stood by equality ; and the axiom, as stated, may 
be made obvious to his senses, by demonstrating, 
that things perfectly equal occupy precisely the 
same space ; and by demonstrating^ that if there 
be a deficiency in the one body and not in the 
other, that body must be the less, and the other the 
greater ; and consequently they cannot be equal. 
We must reason^ in order to be conducted to a first 
principle, which, in the case before us, is no other 
than that the subject must correspond with the ap- 
propriate definition"*. 

Mathematical demonstrations are convincing 
statements of the relations which lines, figures, 
numbers, &c. bear to each other ; and the whole 
of the dem.on strati on depends upon the accurate 
report of a relation of part to part. If this can- 
not be made conspicuous, there must be some error 
in the process undertaken by the mathematician, or 
the proposition stated must be false. For the truth 

* See Note B. 

of 



66 



SOURCES OF 



of the theorem depends upon the integrity of the 
relations of part to part, and of these to the whole. 
In simple and easy propositions, the process of ra- 
tiocination may be extremely rapid ; and maxims 
are acquired in one process which facilitate others. 
Reasoning respecting these may subsequently be 
neglected as unnecessary ; but this ought not to de- 
prive it of the honour of having originally intro- 
duced conviction. 

The more complicated the problem, the more at- 
tention is required in tracing the stated relations of 
the different parts ; and in such cases the idea of 
self-evidence vanishes. But in problems the most 
complicated and embarrassing, they are all directed 
to the same issue ; the sole object being to prove 
that these relations belong to the specific problem 
exclusively. It is the business of the geometer, 
astronomer, navigator, to apply these relations to 
peculiar uses. The mathematician simply states 
facts, in order to prove that the proposed problem 
is true. 

In mathematics, therefore, the following process 
is observable. The eye of ignorance sees different 
figures, as simple impressions upon paper^ without 
understanding what is their object : the pupil is first 
taught the names or terms in use ; he is then to be 
instructed in the relation of part to part; and tinalh^ 
it is to be proved to him that such a relationship 

7nust 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 



57 



must exist in that problem, for it constitutes its es- 
sence. This process consists therefore of simple vi- 
sion, perception of a determinate object, the me- 
thods to obtain it, and demonstrative proof. The 
same process belongs to all those axioms and apho- 
risms which have been considered as self-evident. 



Section VIIL 

On the Difference betzveen Mathematical and 
■ * . Moral Evidence. 

The above, strictures on the sources of rational 
conviictidn, and.- the characteristics of each, may 
enable^us to' ascertain, in what peculiarities the pre- 
cise difference consists, between mathematical and 
moral evidence. 

In the mathematical science, every circumstance, 
even the most minute, is under the eye of the stu- 
dent. Nothing is left to conjecture ; nor can the 
least omission be endured. Every line, circle, sec- 
tion of a circle, every dot, is placed before him. 
The omission of a single letter, or misnomer of a 
sign, would confound the most expert algebraist. 
This constitutes an important difference in favour 
of the mathematician. Although the testimony of 
the senses is, in general, so convincing, yet there 
are cases of incidental deception. Imperfect vi- 

sioDj 



58 



SOURCES or 



sion, diseased organs, &c. have led into temporary 
errors. Memory is sometimes treacherous, and in 
diversified or complicated subjects, the most reten- 
tive memory may omit some circumstance of no 
small importance. In human testimony, we have 
to depend upon the competency of the individual 
to make a complete statement of facts, and upon 
his perfect accuracy and strict fidelity in the narra- 
tive ; — ^we are not always prepared to draw logical 
inferences ; — our documents may be partial and im- 
perfect ; — we may mistake the meaning of complex 
terms, or of different modes of speech we are 
prone to direct our attention to some prominent 
parts, to the neglect of others, which also possess 
a share of influence; — and in consequence of our 
ignorance of diverse powers and properties in sub- 
jects, we are liable to be deceived by imperfect 
analogy. These are inconveniences from which the 
mathematician is exempt. He has no one to ac- 
cuse but himself, when he is incapable of solving 
the problem before him. It is from these favour- 
able circumstances, doubtless, that the term mathe- 
matics takes its origin. The learning or knowledge 
communicated by demonstration must deserve the 
name of science. 

Admitting that the gi^and impediment to an equal 
precision in moral subjects, does not arise from any 
physical difference, but from an intermixture of ig- 
norance 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 59 



norance and error, with those degrees of knowledge 
which we may have acquired, it follows that, in exact 
proportion as these impediments shall be removed, 
will certainty and confidence be upon the increase. 
When mankind shall have duly employed their men- 
tal powers in the pursuit of knowledge ; — when they 
shall have subdued their own ignorance, their obsti- 
nate prejudices, their inordinate self-love, which so 
frequently obscures their reason ; — when they shall 
cordially unite in searching after the truth, instead 
of exerting all their powers in defence of favourite 
propositions ; — when they shall be as apprehensi\ e 
of their own danger of falling into errors, as they 
are eager to detect the errors of another; they may 
finally become qualified to judge of every moral and 
theological proposition; nicely discriminate between 
right and wrong in human conduct ; discover every 
motive, predict every result ; and thus solve every 
problem in morals, with a facility and certainty not 
to be exceeded by mathematicians. 

They who believe in a superintending Providence 
may surely indulge the hope that such a period will 
arrive. It is obviously in the order of nature, that 
physical knowledge, and physical advantages, should 
precede the moral, to a considerable extent. It is 
also in the order of nature, that right conduct shall 
be more conducive to human happiness, than any 
of those advantages which are to be derived from 

the 



60 



SOURCES OF 



the physical sciences. If human intellects do not 
become inert, the time must arrive when the pre- 
eminence of moral culture will be rendered mani- 
fest ; and by being pursued with similar ardour, it 
will doubtless be crowned with similar success. 

Until this happy period shall arrive, we must 
remain satisfied with inferior degrees of evidence. 
Moral philosophy has distinguished these into pos- 
sible, impassible, probable, improbable, certain, un- 
certain, Sec. with respect to particular facts or po- 
sitions. The influence which the various degrees of 
evidence may have upon the mind, is designated by 
credible and incredible ; and the different states of 
the mind respecting propositions, which claim its 
attention, are expressed by notions, opinions, senti- 
ments, doubts, conjectures, belief, disbelief, creduUti^y 
incredulity, conviction, scepticism, Sec."* 

When we wish to establish an hypothesis, we are 
disposed to collect all the evidences in its support, 
and to overlook, or superficially attend to, the argu-^ 
ments of an opposite character. But if we thus de- 
ceive ourselves, by an e.v-parte evidence, we cannot 
SO' easily deceive others. They may propose objec- 
tions, and embarrass, where they cannot confute. 

Objections naturally proceed from the imperfect- 

* See Ethical Treatise on the Passions, vol. i, Disq. II. § 2. 
Diferent Slates of Mind, ^c. Note C. 

tion 



RATIONAL Conviction. 



61 



tion of our knowledge. They originate from that 
diversity of operative principles, which are not al- 
ways in the recollection of every man ; of which 
the specific powers and adaptations are not ascer- 
tained with precision, and which it may be difficult 
to apply, or to reconcile with the particular sub- 
ject submitted to our consideration. 

An objection is literally a something thrown in 
the wa^ ; some obstacle or impediment which com- 
pels us to halt or hesitate, and reflect whether it 
be safe to pursue a particular line of conduct, or to 
receive a proposition as an article of belief. To 
actions it opposes dangers and difficulties ; to Z'e- 
//^improbabihties, impossibilities, or apparent con- 
tradictions ; and it professedly brings forwards cer- 
tain circumstances, to counterbalance those which 
had been advanced, as inducements or arguments. 

As these impediments are so frequent in specu- 
lative subjects, and constitute the very essence of 
controversy, they merit particular attention. 

An objection; to become formidable, should pos- 
sess the following requisites : 

I. It should be perspicuously stated. Nothing 
that is obscure or indefinite, ought to be advanced 
in opposition to any proposition. Vague and de- 
sultory reflections, and mere insinuations, are inad- 
missible. Indefinite language is at all times a feeble 
weapon^ which bends under the handj and cannot 

possibly 



6^ 



SOURCES OF 



possibly penetrate into the subject. No proper an- 
swer can be given to an unintelligible assertion, nor 
does it merit the attempt. 

il. An objection, to be formidable, should have 
one deteBHiinate direction. It must immediately 
apply to some particular position, or positions, be- 
longing to the subject, exclusively. If it be equally 
applicable to different and distinct members of a 
subject, and be^o/e/j/ directed against one, the ob- 
jection is not only enfeebled, but it entitles the per- 
son opposed to evade the attack by doubting the 
pertinency of its application. We will illustrate our 
meaning by the following example* It is observ- 
able that, in the debates concerning the origin of 
evil, its existence is usually levelled against the di- 
vine goodness, as if that must necessarily be defec- 
tive ; whereas the objection is equally applicable to 
a deficiency of power or of wisdom ; and until the 
proper object of attack be ascertained, the theist is 
under no stronger obligation to defend the attribute 
of goodness than that of wisdom or of power ^. 

III. An objection, to be triumphantly formida- 
ble, must be founded on some principle more evi- 
dent, and certain, than that which it opposes. If 
it be less obvious, it cannot be valid ; if the force 
be equal, conviction will be checked, and the mind 
will be held in suspense, but the antagonist is not 

* See Note D. 

confuted. 



hational convictiok. 



63 



confuted. If, upon close examination, the objec- 
tion should prove itself to be better founded than 
the principles of the antagonist, then, and then only, 
will it be potent and convincing. 

IV. An objection, to be valid, requires such an 
accurate knowledge of every essential circumstance 
belonging to the original proposition, as shall clearly 
indicate that the alleged contrariety really exists ; 
and that it is totally inconsistent with the positions 
attacked. Without this degree of knowledge, there 
is a possibility, and even a probability, that the ob- 
jection arises from ignorance, or from the partial 
and imperfect ideas of the opponent, which render 
the opposition premature. 

When objections are not sufficiently powerful to 
confute principles, they often prove subservient to 
their establishment. They may lead to further exa- 
minations and explanations, which place the trutii 
in a more conspicuous point of view. They may 
thus become the means of rectifying mistakes in 
subordinate articles ; and they may thus conduce 
to some medium principle, in which each party will 
concur. 

In the pursuit of knowledge by inference or logi- 
cal deduction, the most powerful auxiliaries to re- 
sist the forces of an objection, and the most frequent 
substitutes for direct proofs, are analogical reason- 
ing and conjecture. These we sliall briefly consider. 

Analo- 



64 



SOURCES OF 



Analorical reasoning is founded on certain re- 
semblances which exist in different subjects ; and 
it presupposes, from this coincidence, that, in given 
eases, what is predicated of the one, may also be 
predicated of the other. Thus, if we see one ani- 
mal formed with wdngs, and another with fins, al* 
though they may not, in other respects, resemble 
any bird or fish within the compass of our know- 
ledge, yet we infer that the first is capable of flying, 
and the other of swimming ; as the bat and the 
lizard, for example; and facts confirm the inference. 
But if, from the simple circumstance of their being 
furnished with wings or fins, it be argued that they 
are able to fly or to swim with equal strength, ve- 
locity, and perseverance, facts w^ould prove that w e 
had carried our analogy too far. The child wiio 
concludes that because fire will consume one sub- 
stance, it will others, draws a proper inference from 
analogy ; but if he concludes that it will consume 
all bodies w ith equal facility, he is no longer sup- 
ported by his analogy*. Hence it appears that 
analogical reasoning is not sufliciently firm and 
stable to be placed as a foundation of an hypo- 
thesis ; yet it will frequently enfeeble objections, 
when it evinces that facts do exist, against w^hich 
similar objections have been made, and that these 
Qbjections were subsequently proved to be invalid. 



* See Note E, 



by 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 



by its appealing that the circumstances were not so 
similar as had been imagined. 

Thus may analogy convert, what was deemed 
impossible, into the possible, and perhaps into the 
probable ; and in this manner may it clear the way 
for the more powerful arguments which had been 
advanced. 

Conjecture is a sandy and treacherous foundation 
for an hypothesis. It does not furnish an imme- 
diate proof or argument for any thing ; but it often 
suggests ideas which are worthy of being pursued. 
It searches after, and sometimes finds, a medium, 
by which objections to particular statements, and 
hypothetic notions, may be evaded, or rendered 
less formidable ; and it leads to experiments and 
researches, which will either rectify or confirm 
opinions. 



Section IX. 

Inquiry wfo the best Methods of searching after 
and promulgating the Truth, 

Having thus endeavoured to trace the different 
sources of evidence, and to appreciate the powers 
of each, we shall conclude with a few practical ob- 
servations. 

L The view we have taken of the. nature and 
J' sources 



66 



SOURCES OF 



sources of evidence, presents a caution to moral 
philosophers, and to theologians also, against pre- 
cipitately engaging to demonstrate the truth of their 
principles. For demonstration cannot belong to 
theni, until every fact bearing upon the subject be 
accurately known, and the degrees of its influence 
accurately ascertained. Demonstration will not ad- 
mit of the slightest omission, or leave room for the 
slightest objections. The most acute mathemati- 
cian would be confounded, by the omission of a 
single figure ; and the algebraist, by the mistaking 
of a sign or misplacing of a letter. Nor will every 
subject admit of demonstration. The term prima- 
rily signifies, placing an object before the sight in 
such a manner that its existence must be acknow- 
ledged, and its ostensible qualities be made mani- 
fest ; and in every sense it is alone applicable to 
the infallible deductions of reason emanating from 
indubitable facts. Where facts will not admit of 
such deductions, logical demonstration can have no 
place. No one can demonstrate that he sees ob- 
jects, smells odours, or feels pain, to another who 
is not disposed to believe him ; he cannot demon- 
strate the existence of his intimate friend, if he can 
his own. If there be a thousand potent reasons 
in support of a position, against a few superficial 
objections, founded on remaining ignorance, the 
wise man will not hesitate, but he will leave it to 

captious 



RATIONAL CONVICTIOK-. 



67 



captious disputants to permit the weaker arguments 
to have the strongest effect. 

The sano^uine boast of demonstration will inevi- 
tably injure the cause it attempts to establish. It 
seduces the attention of the opponent, from the 
chief object to a collateral; and it places the safety 
of the most important principles, solely upon the 
capacity of the professing demonstrator to maintain 
his thesis, in the manner which he has rashly pro- 
posed. Should he not succeed, the most important 
truths may be involved in the disgrace ; for the op- 
ponent will not always discriminate between the 
truth of principles, and the incapability of their de- 
fender : and it is very seldom that he can succeed. 
The opponent readily accepts the challenge. It 
saves him from the trouble of being a fellow-searcher 
after truth ; and he amuses himself with starting 
objections, every one of which the demonstrator is 
bound to answer, in a satisfactory manner, or the 
cause is lost. 

This method is also calculated to foster a scepti- 
cal disposition in the part)^, whom we are anxious 
to convince. It becomes his province to find out 
errors in every argument advanced, and not to ap<- 
preciate its solidity. A disposition is therefore ge- 
nerated to oppose truths, which would otherwise 
have been admitted . To these objections he adheres ; 
upon these he places a captious confidence. His 

F g . mind 



68 



SOURCES OF 



mind thus becomes habituated to incredulity and 
scepticism ; and he is in danger of being ena- 
moured of those errors, which have rendered him 
triumphant over his opponents. He finally con- 
cludes, that there can be no validity in any of 
the arguments advanced, because a vain attenript 
has been made to render them omnipotent; and 
that the cause itself is destitute of support, because 
the reasoner has not been able to do it all the jus- 
tice he had promised. Thus will the objector mis- 
take the detected presumption and impotency of a 
sanguine boaster, for a full confutation of his prin- 
ciples. 

But it is obvious to every sober mind, that a 
failure of success in a rash attempt, cannot esta- 
blish opposite principles. These must be founded 
upon their own basis, and supported by their own 
arguments. 

A professed atheist, for example, must believe, 
as well as a theist : and this belief must influence 
his conduct. His omissions and his pursuits are 
characterized by it. He cannot suspend his faith 
between the being of a God and his non-existence, 
like Mahomet's coffin, between heaven and earth. 
He differs essentially from the conscientious theist 
in his objects, motives, actions, and habits. He 
has therefore formed his system, by which he is per- 
petually influenced. This system he is bound, as a 

philosopher 



RATIONAL CONVICTIOIvr. 



^9 



philosopher, and a lover of truth, to support. Now^ 
should he attempt to demonstrate to the satisfac- 
tion of the theist, that there is no God ; that there 
is an eternal concatenation of cause and effect, with- 
out an intelligent first cause ; or that every thing is 
the production of chance ; and, should he fail in 
the attempt, will he admit that this failure is a con- 
vincing argument in proof of an existing deity, and 
become a convert to theism ? The cases are pa- 
rallel, 

II, The many pre-requi sites which are so ne- 
cessary for the discovery of truth, either by human 
testimony or by logical deductions, manifest the ex- 
treme impropriety of that assuming dogmatical spi- 
rit, which is so conspicuous in controversial writings. 
This spirit is manifestly the offspring of pride and 
ignorance. It is mostly the result of self-conceit, 
feebly supported by superficial knowledge, and con- 
tracted views. He that knows but little, often thinks 
that he knows much, from his ignorance of the mul- 
titude of facts which remain to be known. Is it not 
surprising that any individual should assume a tone 
approaching to infallibility, when he perceives that 
numbers are of an opinion contrary to his own, 
whose learning he vnW acknowledge to be more ex- 
tensive ; who have probably been more assiduous 
and indefatigable in their inquiries ; whose integrity 

is 



70 SOURCES OF 

is at least equal ; and with whose intellectual powers 
he will not hazard a competition ? 

If the simplest mathematical theorem, — all the 
attributes of which are under immediate inspection, 
— demands a considerable degree of attention and 
care, to discern the connexion of parts with parts, 
and of these with the whole, how much more cau- 
tion becomes necessary, how much more difficult it 
may be to decide, where the evidences are remote, 
involved, obscure ! Respecting many subjects in 
history, politics, morals, religion, he who has never 
doubted, must be too ignorant to know that difficul- 
ties exist ; and this ignorance should inspire diffi- 
dence, not foster pride. The simplest truths, those 
which in the present day are the most familiar to 
us, are the result of former investigations ; and may 
have been surrounded by numerous difficulties. Er- 
rors, many and great, must have preceded their ad- 
mission and establishment ; and these errors were 
probably supported by some ardent dogmatical spi- 
rit, which, if it had possessed power to check the 
progress of inquiry, might have rendered ignorance 
permanent 

III.^ The difficulties which accompany our in- 
quiries after truth, should also dispose those who 
are the most discontented with popular errors, and 
the most able to confute them, §till to treat them 

with 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 



71 



with decency, and their abetters with respect. The 
grossest errors, those which insult our reason the 
most, could not have existed, and been widely dis- 
seminated, without the operation of very potent 
causes. These causes may have been operating for 
ages, and meoitahhj operating, without the imputa- 
tion of culpability in any one. Being introduced, 
and having taken the deepest root, to expect diffi- 
culties in- the removal of them, is much more ra- 
tional, than to censure those who conscientiously 
retain them. Prejudices are natural to man, in his 
present imperfect state, and they cannot be forci- 
bly removed. He who is hasty to censure them, has 
forgotten the imposing influence of authority, and 
the power of early habits ; and this power will act 
with increased force where we may apprehend dan- 
g,er from the change. 

IV. If we sincerely desire to convince others 
of their errors, we should be extremely cautious in 
the use of satire and ridicule. It is perfectly law- 
ful to show, by argumentation, the absurdity of a 
tenet. Should this excite a smile, the reasonerwill 
not be charged with indecorum^ and the abetter may 
become ashamed of his principles. Upon serious 
subjects, ridicule will frequently be considered as a 
profaneness, against which the mind revolts. Sneers 
and sarcasms, if they be personal, will certainly ir- 
ritate ; and irritation of mind is adverse to convic- 
tion. 



It 



SOURCES OF 



tion. It is most inimical to calm and impartial at- 
tention ; it places the assailed in an attitude of self- 
defence, and his sole occupation is to collect all 
his forces, that he may repel the insult. There are 
cases where a pertinent use of ridicule may prevent 
the spread of errors, though it may not produce a 
beneficial effect upon their advocate ; but in every 
case where it is employed, it should be considered 
as a vehicle to argument, and not as a substitute. 
To ridicule, is seldom to reason justly ; it often gives 
an importance to ludicrous ideas, which they do not 
merit ; and it is much disposed to give a false co- 
louring to the sentiments we oppose. Nothing can 
be of solid value in ridicule, but the arguments it 
may contain ; and these must be brought to the test 
of reason, before we can decide whether the ridi- 
cule be pertinent or impertinent. In most cases, 
it indicates a contempt of person, or opinions, much 
more forcibly than the justness of our own prin- 
ciples. 

V. The extensive view we have taken of the 
nature of evidence, points out to us the most proper 
method of searching after truths, and the most pro- 
mising of the desired success. Two opposite modes 
present themselves. Each has its advantages ; but 
no hesitation is necessary to decide which of these, 
in abstruse and difficult cases, is entitled to the prcr 
ference. The one is to form an hypothesis, and to 

collect 



RATIONAL CONVICTION. 



73 



(Collect arguments for its support ; the other, not to 
adopt a system previously, but carefully to collect, 
and duly weigh, every fact belonging to the subject 
under deliberation, and to trace their various de- 
grees of influence. 

When we commence with a system, the design 
generally originates in the supposition that we al- 
ready possess a competency of knowledge for this 
conmiencement. We are strongly disposed to theo- 
rize, from the documents before us ; though they 
may be partial and imperfect, we think that they 
may serve as a basis. We raise a fabric in our 
imagination, to which w^e become strongly attach- 
ed, and to which we are solicitous to give a con- 
sistency. We collect and arrange all the mate- 
rials adapted to the building, and are inattentive to 
others ; that is, we eagerly search for arguments in 
support of our opinions, without being equally dis- 
posed to find objections. This office is chiefly left 
to others ; and when objections are stated, we exer- 
cise all our ingenuity to evade their force. 

There is a comparative facility in this mode, which 
gives it a general preference. Partial documents 
are soon collected ; and these, with the aid of con- 
jecture and analogy, are often deemed sufficient. 
The systematic is also at liberty to contract or di- 
late his arguments at pleasure ; and to weaken the 
force of an objection by concise and imperfect state- 
ments. 



74 



SOURCES Of 



ments. If he supports his principles with irrge- 
nuity, he acquires reputation ; and should he make 
converts, he may enjoy the honour of founding 
a sect. 

This mode cannot be the most safe and satisfac- 
tory. It would often prove destructive to the cause 
of truth, did not the theorist meet with opponents, 
who will attempt to establish the contrary princi- 
ples ; perhaps in a manner equally partial, and with 
a vigour which conducts to the opposite extreme. 
In these contests it is desirable that some mode- 
rator should appear, who, availing himself of the 
facts advanced by each partisan, and knowing how 
to appreciate them, may elicit truths from the ar- 
guments of both, which had escaped each anta- 
gonist. 

The more secure, but the more tedious method 
of searching after truth, is by the slow process of 
analyzation : to suspect a theorizing disposition ; to 
enlist under no banner ; but earnestly to seek for 
tmth itself, whether it confirm or oppose popular 
opinions ; fearless of consequences, and convinced 
that truth alone, however foreign or alarming its 
aspect, upon its first appearance, or injurious to in- 
dividuals, is the only solid basis of human happi- 
ness, upon an extensive scale. 

The discouragements to this method are many 
and great. It demands a determined, I may say 

painful 



RATION"AL CONVICTION, 



76 



painful impartiality ; for it has to resist all the pre- 
judices of education, the authority of respectable 
names, and it may be the private interests of the in- 
dividual. It submits also to the task of collecting 
every circumstance in its power, which belongs to 
the subject of inquiry, directly or indirectly ; to 
examine into the various degrees of importance it 
may possess ; to scrutinize every important phrase, 
to define every important. word ; to resolve complex 
terms into their component parts, that their precise 
adaptations to the subject under consideration may 
be distinctly known. It will receive no principle 
as a basis, which is not supported by the clearest 
evidence, and it cautiously builds upon it with the 
most solid materials. 

The process must be circuitous. As the reader 
must be endowed with patience similar to that of 
the writer, and slowly attend him through all the 
mazes he is destined to tread, the writer must not 
expect to be followed by multitudes. However, the 
man who foUow^s this method with the most suc- 
cess, will form a repository of various truths, to 
which combatants themselves will gladly have re- 
course, as often as any of these shall appear favour- 
able to their particular tenets. 

This mode approaches the nearest to mathema- 
tical demonstration ; and has the greatest claim to 
its rewards. By carefully collecting every thing re- 
lative 



76 



SOURCES OF 



lative to the subject, it escapes the imputation of 
partiality, and the errors which partiality will in- 
duce; by having no system to establish, it is neither 
detained nor embarrassed by objections. It gives 
the requisite importance to every thing which is or 
can be known, in the course of its reseaixhes. No 
other impediments, to a knowledge of the truth, 
and the whole truth, can exist, than those arising 
from the lamented obscurities which unavoidable 
ignorance may still occasion. 

Should the materials thus carefully collected, di^ 
gested, and arranged, terminate in a system ; it pro- 
mises to be a permanent edifice, founded upon a 
rock, defying every assailant, and adapted to the 
most important purposes. 

It vras by this method, that Bacon, Locke, and 
Hartley have immortalized themselves, and blessed 
mankind ; notwithstandmg the occasional errors 
which subsequent inquners may have discovered, in 
consequence of the very illuminations received from 
their writings. A Giant may enable a Dwarf to see 
somewhat further than himself, by kindly placing 
him upon his shoulders. 

VI. Finally, as truth is to every man of equal 
importance ; for it is the. only secure basis of right 
conduct, respecting ourselves, our fellow-creatures, 
and towards the great Supreme ; as realities are a 
common stock, for the public good ; instead of op- 
posing 



RATIONAL CONVXCTION'. 



77 



posing each other with indecorous vehemence, we 
ought amicably to unite against the miscreant Error; 
to search after the truth with reciprocal candour ; 
be as sincerely disposed to weigh the arguments of 
another, as we are to give validity to our own. 
Truth is the professed object of all ; and it is cer- 
tainly the interest of all to possess it ; but the only 
road to the possession, is that of assiduous and im- 
partial inquiry. 



SPECU- 



SPECULATION II. 



IS BENEVOLENCE A PKINCIPLE DISTINCT 
FROM SELF-LOVE, OR A MODIEICATION 
0F IT? 



81 



SPECULATION II. 

IS BENEVOLENCE A PRINCIPLE DISTINCT EROM 
SELF-LOVE, OR A MODIFICATION OF IT ? 

There is no one virtue so warmly admired, and 
universally commended, as Benevolence. Those 
virtues which commence and terminate with Self^ 
may be justified, as tokens of a commendable pru- 
dence, where they do not interfere with the claims 
of others. Equity is respected, rather than admired. 
Justice is considered as indispensably obligatory 
upon all men ; and therefore an act which is strictly 
just, without an admixture of kindness, scarcely re- 
ceives the award of praise. But, as individual acts 
of benevolence are not always of equal obligation ; 
as men possess a discretionary power in given cases ; 
as there seems to be a forgetfulness of Self, in order 
to meet the wishes and wants of others, this virtue 
is deemed worthy of the highest encomiums, and is 
frequently spoken of with raptures, as being divine 
and god-like. 

It is therefore desirable to know whether these 
distinctions be well founded ? whether the best of 
our actions and dispositions do not spring from mo- 




82 



ON DISINTERESTED 



tives which either destroy or considerably diminish 
their intrinsic value? and when duly considered, 
will not a similarity in motives reduce the actions 
of man nearly to a level ? 

This subject appears to me to admit of two se- 
parate questions, to which distinct, and perhaps op- 
posite answers maybe given. First, does every act 
of benevolence originate from self-love, in such a 
manner that self-interest or self-gratification is the 
grand incitement, at the time of the performance ? 
or secondly, may not the most exalted of the bene- 
volent affections be traced to self-love as the ori- 
gin ? If so, does this origin deteriorate the action, 
and render it less deserving of the applause we are 
disposed to bestow upon it ? 

The pleasure or pain which accompanies every 
other passion or afi'ection, and which is, at the instant, 
an augmentation of our enjoyment or a deduction 
from it, has induced some moralists to maintain that 
benevolent actions are, at all times, founded upon the 
principle of self-love ; notwithstanding the disin- 
terested appearances they may assume. Those who 
maintain that self-interest is the foundation of virtue^ 
must be peculiarly disposed to adopt this opinion, in 
order to support a consistency in their system. They 
draw the conclusion from analogy. They think it sin- 
gular that the principle of benevolence should be an 
exception to those motives, which influence the mind 

ill 



BENEVOLENCE. 



83 



in every other case ; and that an action perfectly dis- 
interested in its nature, would be a deviation from a 
law which seems to operate upon all animated beings. 
They appeal also to our own feelings. These, they 
say, will inform us that, in relieving distress, we re- 
Wewe ourselves from the agonizing pains of sympathy: 
we enjoy self-approbation in the attempt to succour, 
and unequalled satisfaction in the success of our at- 
tempts. They assert likewise, that not being con- 
scious of these motives, at the instant, is no proof 
that we were not secretly actuated by them ; as 
there are numberless examples of our being prone 
to deceive ourselves, and to compliment our own 
conduct, by ascribing more virtue to our motives 
than they deserve. They allege that there are 
many splendid acts of charity which will not bear 
examination respecting the motive ; and there are 
many others in which we may deceive ourselves, as 
well as the spectators. Thus it is highly probable 
that benevolence itself is no other than a more re- 
fined species of self-love. Its ostensible object be- 
ing ditferent, and tlie pleasure or pain derived from 
this source being so intimately connected with the 
state of others, have induced us to flatter ourselves, 
that our dispositions and conduct, in these particu- 
lar cases, are totally disinterested. 

To these assertions it has been ansvv ered, that we 
have as stron.^ evidences of the existence of a bene- 
G 2! Tolent 



M DISINTERB^TED 

volent principle as of a selfish one ; — that it is too 
singular to be credible, that we should uniformly 
think ourselves to be conscious of one motive, and 
be as uniformly governed by its opposite ; — that in 
every other instance of self-deception, we are able, 
by attending to the operations of the human mind, 
to detect those self-deceptions clearly and decided- 
ly ; for some circumstance or other will finally dis- 
cover to us, that the motive we deemed the most 
commendable, is not so uniform and consistent as it 
must have been, were it the genuine principle of 
action. Thus the man who always relieves distress 
in a public and ostentatious manner, is actuated by- 
some other motive than that of pure compassion^ 
Whereas, the more we attempt to analyse the feel- 
ings of the mind, in acts of genuine humanity, the 
more shall we be convinced that the primary, and, 
in some cases, the sole object, was not ourselves, but 
others. It is acknowledged that the benevolent 
heart feels pain in seeing distress ; and that, by re- 
lieving this distress, it is itself freed from the sym- 
pathetic commiseration ; but the fact may only 
evince that, when the cause is removed, the effect 
will cease. When we have succoured the distressed, 
they are no longer distressed ; and consequently our 
sympathy hath no longer an object. It is acknow- 
ledged also, that great pleasure results from a bene- 
volent act, but this may be the ixward of the ac- 
tion ; 



BENEVOLEIS-CE. 



85 



tion ; the glow of complacencif in having done good ; 
and on this supposition the glow will be the warmer 
and the more pleasant, from a conviction that the 
good which has been done was the result of pore 
humanity, without the admixture of private or per- 
sonal advantage. 

It may also be urged, that if the sole motive for 
action were self-love, every action having self-love 
for its principle, would be equally meritorious ; that 
the heart apparently the most virtuous and excellent 
is, in reality, in the same predicameDt as the heart 
that is insensible to commiseration. It may also be 
urged, that if the only motive were to relieve our selves^ 
in such cases, we might extinguish our painful sen- 
sations by avoiding or forgetting the objectof distress. 

Again, if benevolence be merely a refmed species 
of self-love, it may be asked, what are the circum- 
stances which render it more refined than any other 
species ? Are we to give it the epithet, merely be- 
cause its actions happen to be conducted in such a 
manner that others are benefited by it? Thrs will 
render it, in the eyes of the person benefited at least, 
more fortunate, but not more refined, than any 
other species. It is the motive, and the disposition, 
and not the accidental issue, which enstamps merit 
or demerit upon conduct ; and when we warmly 
approve, the approbation must arise from a more 
exalted cause than that the action happens to be- 

netit 



86 ON DISINTERESTED 

nefit some one. The mere issue of an act, performed 
by a designing agent, whether it be good or bad, is 
not sufficient to call forth approbation, or the con- 
ti'ary. It is the motive, the disposition, the actu- 
ati7ig principle, w^hich'enstamps the character. Are 
we to imitate the inconsiderate housewife, who will 
caress her cat, for having killed a mouse, and after- 
wards punish it for having killed a favourite bird? 
Shall we call the incidental good, occasioned by the 
former deed, a more refined species of self-love 
in the cat than the latter, when the same instinc- 
tive love of self-gratification was the sole cause of 
each ? In short, if there be more refinement in the 
action, which has the essential good of another for 
its object, than in the one which is centred solely 
in our own personal interest ; if more excellence is 
universally ascribed to the one than to the other, 
there must be some cause for this : there must be 
something to create the difference ; something added 
to the common principle of action ; and this must 
bring the hypothesis into great danger. For the 
only cause of the difference which can be discovered 
is, that the one appears to be more disint eldest ed than 
the other. The different degrees of refinement must 
arise from the action appearing more remote from 
the selfish principle. That is, the excellency of the 
action increases in exact proportion to the distance 
of its removal from its own basis. 

Bene- 



BENEVOLEISTCE. 87 

Benevolent acts produce two efl<scts. They maJve 
others happy, and ourselves happy. In all other cases 
when we consult our own happiness alone, we are al- 
ways conscious of the motives ; we professedly cater 
for ourselves ; but we are not conscious that this is 
our motive, in every case, where we seek the welfare 
of another. On tlie contrary, we feel as if we had 
their welfare solely in view. Is it likely that these 
very opposite sensations should spring from exactly 
the same origin ? that the former should proceed 
from a cause, of which every one is conscious at the 
moment; and the other from the same cause, of 
which he is totally i7iconscioiis at the moment? We 
certainly enjoy satisfaction in our benevolent at- 
tempts, and sometimes transports in our extraordi- 
nary success. But this self-approbation and these 
transports, are not before our eyes at the instant, like 
the advantages we expect from objects professedly 
selfish. They follow our benevolent and successful 
attempts. We did not think of personal happiness, 
in affording relief ; we found it Gftenvar.ds. Whence 
comes this singular satisfaction, this glow, of self- 
approbation ? It is because, upon reflection, I have 
the gratification of having rescued another from mi- 
sery, or from some impending danger ; and I enjoy, 
at the same time, a pleasure from thinking that my 
motives were philanthropic; disinterestedly philan- 
thropic : 



88 ON DISINTERESTED 

thropic : that I rose superior to the common princi- 
ples of selfishness ; and stood prepared to run many 
risks, and to make considerable sacrifices, that an- 
other might possess some essential good. For ex- 
ample, I see a person in imminent danger of being 
consumed by a conflagration ; I conceive that there 
is a possibility of saving him ; I think of no one 
thing but his danger and this possibility. My com- 
passion for him is excited so powerfully, that all 
xny thoughts are directed towards his safety; and 
I alsolutely forget my own. I expose myself to 
the scorching flames, to the extreme hazard of my 
life ; I bear him triumphantly on my shoulders, and 
be is saved. Now I feel that my heart is compas- 
sionate ; I know that I love my fellow-creature. I 
am conscious that my love excited my sympathy. 
I felt anguish at his distress, and I knew that it was 
his distress which occasioned it, and not my own : 
and I knew that my anguish proceeded alone from 
the benevolence of my heart; that is, from the 
good will that I bear to another. And why do I 
enjoy exquisite happiness upon my success.^ Be- 
cause this principle of benevolence is still operating 
in conjunction with Vwid self-complacency : because 
having succeeded in an arduous task, prompted by 
benevolence, I feel myself entitled to a reward : and 
I know that my title is the greater because I thought 

of 



BENEVOLENCE, 8P 

of no reward. I receive it as the bounteous recom- 
pense of Nature ; and it surpasses any conceptions 
I could have formed of it. Is not this a more na- 
tural explanation than the extravagant idea that 
the agony I suffer at seeing any one in dangel", 
happens to be so intense, although I am in reality 
indifferent about him, that I seek personal relief at 
the hazard of my own life? Can we in such a case 
adopt the hypothesis of Mr. Hobbes, who main- 
tains that commiseration is a selfish passioa, be- 
cause the extreme distress of another reminds us 
that we are liable to the same calamity ? Shall w^e 
rush into the water, or into the fire, in consequence 
of our being reminded that we are liable to be 
drowned or burnt to death, by the exposure of an- 
other to these disasters? 

Again, Why should I run so great a risk to get 
rid of an uneasy sensation, when a determined 
hardness of heart, or avoiding the sight of a di- 
stressed object, will answer the same purpose? It 
will be said that this is not so reputable. But why 
not ? For according to the hypothesis, an attention 
to the welfare of another is entirely out of the ques- 
tion. Or why should the man who feels the greatest 
agony of mind, upon such occasions, and who risks 
the most, be deemed the most benevolent, when he 
is solely attentive to his own personal feelings ? 

If the desire of liberating myself from an ago- 
nizing 



90 ON D1SI^^TERESTED 

niziiig sensation be my only motive, iiow ought I to 
rejoice at the generous and successful exertions of 
another, who has done what my selfish feelings 
prompted me to do ! For he has not only eased 
my anguish, by assisting the party, but he has saved 
Qjie, both from the agonies I endured, and the danger 
to which I was about to expose myself But how 
do I feel in this case ? My anxiety is over, because 
its exciting cause ceases to exist, I now rejoice at 
the safety of another : — ^but why should I ? Is it 
merely to experience the pleasures of joy, without 
any attention to the personal interests of the person 
liberated ? Can his safety be the cause of my joy, 
without discovering that I have a benevolent prin- 
ciple within, which can rejoice at the welfare of an- 
other? I admire the benevolent courage of the li- 
berator. But admiration is not excited merely that 
I may enjoy it. It is inspired by the perception of 
disinterested benevolence, exerting itself in the cause 
of humanity ; even to an exposure to the most im- 
minent danger. I admire the extent of benevo- 
lence shown perhaps to a stranger^ perhaps to an 
memy. It is true that I do not enjoy the satisfac- 
tion I should have enjoyed, had I been the fortu- 
nate liberator. Because, although the hppe of en- 
joying this w^as not in my thoughts at the moment, 
yet I acknowledge that after the success of disin- 
terested endeavoursj the selfish principle has a just 

claim 



BENEVOLE!\^CE. <) \- 

claim to the delights of self-complacency ; and self- 
love induces me to wish that this had been 7?it/ lot, 
rather than the lot of any other. 

But we will suppose that my eager endeavours to 
save a distressed object have been unsuccessful. I 
shall then feel a painful regret. But why should I ? 
Were self-love the only motive of my endeavours, 
no cause of regret could possibly exist. The sor- 
row cannot be on my own account, for, as I had 
done my best, there can be no room for self-reproach. 
The. sorrow must surely proceed from the percep- 
tion that I have not been successful, in my attempt 
to communicate a great blessing to others ; and this 
has all the appearance of disinterested benevolence. 

Again, How is this anxiety inspired ? By my be- 
holding another in misery, or in extreme danger. 
A cause exists therefore prior to these feelings, 
which cannot have any thing selfish in its nature. 
IF hi/ do I feel an agonizing pain at the event? It 
must be inspired by a principle of humanity, or it 
could not have existed. He that is most distin- 
guished for his humanity feels it the most, and is 
deemed the most estimable character ; and yet ac- 
cording to the selfish system, these sensations have 
no further connexion with the exciting cause ; for 
every exertion they produce is solely confined to 
ourselves : and were it not to release ourselves, we 

should 



m 



ON DISINTERESTED 



should allow them to perish, with the most phleg- 
matic indifference. How strange must that oeco- 
nomy of nature be, which permits the state of a 
stranger to excite the most disagreeable sensations 
within us, fortunately directs our attention to this 
state, merely to relieve ourselves, without any per- 
sonal concern about km ! 

We shall further observe, that there is a sympa- 
thy in our natures, in many familiar cases, where 
self-interest is totally out of the question. How 
frequently do we join in the laughter of a company 
without knowing the cause ; and feel a melancholy 
hy contemplating the mere representation of a me- 
lancholy countenance, in a well executed painting, 
or in a tragic actor ! This law of sympathy being 
acknowledged to operate, where self-interest, as the 
exciting cause, must be excluded, what arguments 
can prove that in every case of distress, where as- 
sistance is required, disinterested sympathy retires, 
in order to be supplanted by selfishness ? Again, I 
rejoice in the prosperity of another; his unexpected 
acquisitions, or any sudden perception of his hap- 
piness, make me happy. In this case my feelings 
could not be excited by any previous motives, rior 
are there any motives connected with them ; for 
no correspondent action is required of me. Yet I 
rejoice. Surely it will not be said that I rejoice 

merely 



BENEVOXENGE. 

merely to experience the pleasure of joy, and not 
fi"om a sympathy which makes me participate of his 
welfare*. 

But what seems to decide this question is the 
fact, that, in no one instance, is the pleasure de- 
rived from the excitement of a passion a motive for 
the indulgence of that passion ; or the pain which 
it occasions, the sole motive to liberate ourselves 
from it. So that the argument, instead of being 
founded on analogy, is contrary to it. Let us ex- 
amine what are the laws respecting every other pas- 
sion and emotion, and we shall see whether our sym- 
pathetic emotions, which in their appearance seem 
to be the most disinterested ^ are subject to the same 
laws, or whether they have some lav/s of their own, 
to render them peculiarly selfish. 

Joy is a pleasing emotron, — and why? Because 
the good we wished for is obtained, or some fortu- 
nate event has unexpectedly taken place. The joy 
proceeds from something which appears suitable to 
my nature, or gratifying to my wishes. Hence it is 
obvious that the primary object is to obtain some 
good ; and that the immediate excitement of joy is, 
that I have succeeded. The joy is therefore adven- 
titious. This joy may possibly communicate to my 
feelings a more delectable sensation than the bless- 
ing obtained may ever produce ; yet I do not seek 

* See Note R 

good, 



94i 



ON DISINTERESTED 



good, that it may occasion the sensation of joy^ but. 
because the good itself will add something to mv 
happiness. There is a pleasure in kope^ but I do 
not hope for the sake of this pleasure : it is solely 
inspired by the prospect of advantage. There is a 
pleasure in gratitude. I am grateful because some 
one has done me good ; not that I may enjoy plea- 
sure from the affection. I am injured and feel an- 
ger ; anger is a painful sensation. I feel an unplea- 
sant turbid desire of revenge. There may be a mo- 
mentary pleasure in gratifying revenge ; but I am 
not angry that I may enjoy the gratification. In 
Jear, a most painful sensation is excited, because I 
am apprehensive of danger. But I fly not to get 
rid of the fear ; it is to avoid the danger w hich ex- 
cited it: although the pain I suffer from the emotion 
itself, is perhaps much greater than the real conse- 
quences of this danger would have produced. 

Thus in every passion and emotion, whether it be 
of a pleasant or unpleasant kind, certain circum- 
stances are the exciting causes, to which they solely 
relate, and not to the pleasure which may incidentally 
accompany the indulgence, or to a liberation from 
the pain w^hich they may induce. In this the pas- 
sions differ from the appetites. The appetites are 
made to be gratified. The sensation is excited by 
the object, and it dies with the gratification. The 
passions relate to something different than their ow^n 

grati- 



BENEVOLElSrCE. 



gratification ; and which appears to be more dura- 
ble in its influence. They are the medium through 
which the mind passes from the wish to the pos- 
session ; from the aversion to the escape. It is 
from the quaHty of the objective cause that we ex- 
pect our chief advantage, and not from the sensa- 
tions peculiar to each. 

It is plain therefore, in the subject before us, that 
the argument from analogy will oblige us to relin- 
quish the doctrine it was intended to support ; for, 
instead of conforming to an universal principle, it 
manifestly violates it. Can there be more propriety 
in the assertion, that when we feel distress at the 
distress of another^ we relieve him merely to get rid 
of our own sufferings, than in the position, that when 
we fear and fly from danger it is not to escape the 
danger, but to be released from the fear? or when we 
rejoice, it is not on account of the good in contem- 
plation, but because of the pleasant effects of the 
joy itself*? 

Hence it is manifest that every passion and af- 
fection, which relates solely to ourselves, hath its 
particular object, by which it is excited, and to 
which alone it attends. The impression made upon 
us results from the nature of the object ; from its 
apparent qualities ; and the predisposition of our 
minds relative to these qualities, at the moment; 

^ See Note G, 

and 



OK DISINTERESTED 



and they immediately relate to our own personal 
well-being. When the exciting cause is not prima- 
rily connected with ourselves, it manifestly belongs 
to the second, or the social principle which influ- 
ences mankind. This social principle respects the 
state and situation of others ; their well-being, their 
dangers, their distresses and sorrows, virtues, crimes, 
penitence, &c. &c. and a correspondent class of emo- 
tions and affections are excited in every well formed 
mind ; which as distinctly and unequivocally relate 
to them, as the former class of passions and affec- 
tions relate to ourselves. We rejoice in the well- 
being of another ; we commiserate his wants, sym- 
pathize with his distress ; we are prompted by mercy 
to forgive, not from the pleasures and pains accom- 
panying these sensations, but from the effects which 
his particular situation produces upon the benevo- 
lent principle in me. My motives for action cor- 
respond with my feelings, but they are not ejccited 
by them. It was the particular situation of the ob- 
ject which excited these feelings ; and the feelings 
prompted the motives to particular actions, as indu- 
bitably as a sudden perception of personal advan- 
tage inspired joy, or exposure to imminent danger 
excited my fears : and in sympathizing with him I 
no more act that I may indulge or be liberated from 
sensations, agreeable or disagreeable, than I pur- 
sue good, solely to feel the exultations of joy, or 



BENEVOLENCE. 



97 



fly from danger with no other view than to be re- 
leased from my fears. 

Thus will the argument from analogy compel us 
to relinquish the selfish system. For whatever pas- 
sion may be occasionally excited by the grand prin- 
ciple of self-love, it is neither indulged nor sup- 
pressed by any motive arising purely out of its own 
nature. The object of the passion suggests the mo- 
tive for action, and not the desire to indulge, or to 
be exempt from, the sensation peculiar to the pas- 
sion. If this be the case in every instance which 
concerns ourselves, a parity of reasoning requires 
us to expect the same law of human agency respect- 
ing others ; particularly as this mode of reasoning 
so perfectly coincides with the consciousness of 
every benevolent mind, which the other system so 
strangely opposes. 

When we combat the hypothesis that every be- 
nevolent action is founded upon self-interest, our 
arguments are levelled against the universality of 
its operations, or its being the principle by which 
we are invariably actuated. It is not to be under- 
stood that every act, by which others are benefited, 
proceeds from pure unmixed benevolence. Much 
good is done from a principle of vanity. We are 
teased into many kind actions, by the force of soli- 
citations. In many instances-we are convinced that 

H certain 



98 ON DISINTERESTED 

certain measures ought not to be neglected, and w6 
perform them with no small degree of reluctance. 
The conscious neglect of a duty may create great 
uneasiness in the mind, and the predominant mo- 
tive for performing the action may be to free our- 
selves from the disagreeable sensation. In such 
cases, the benevolent principle may not be opera- 
ting, and the act may be entirely selfish. In many 
other cases self-love and social may be conjoined. 
We may be glad to benefit ourselves, while we are 
benefiting others ; and self-love may lead to a self- 
deception that our motives are purely disinterested. 
It is also acknowledged that benevolence is a se- 
condary principle • that self-love is prior to it, and, 
in too many cases, acts with such a sovereign sway 
as to keep the other at a remote distance. Nay, 
there are situations where benevolence itself may 
be introduced and fostered by the selfish principle^ 
which now deserves the character of refined self- 
love. We are able in the present day to trace many 
instances which authorize this statement. Actions 
beneficial in their nature may at first be performed 
from interested motives : but the successful perform- 
ance of them may inspire the agent with more exalt- 
ed satisfaction ; that arising from his having earned 
the proposed recompense. He may derive pleasure 
from success ; from the gratitude of those benefited, 
from the congratulations and applause of those 

around 



BENEVOLEN"CE. 99 

around him, until his labour of profit may become 
pleasing and honourable in his eyes, and finally ter- 
minate in a labour of love. In many of those cha- 
ritable institutions, which do so much honour to 
their founders and supporters, where the assistance 
of selfish and even of sordid minds has been re- 
quired, we may frequently trace this process. Nurses 
and attendants upon hospitals, by acquiring the habit 
of kind actions, acquire habits of benevolence also, 
and feel a pleasure in administering succour, uncon- 
nected with the stipulated recompense. The insti- 
tutions for the recovery of drowning persons, are pe- 
culiarly calculated to produce these effects ; and they 
have given many remarkable instances of a benevolent 
influence. Upon their first introduction, the thought- 
less and unconcerned have been stimulated into ac- 
tion, merely by the hopes of reward. Success has 
inspired pleasure from a nobler source. Benevo- 
lence has thus been cherished until the same class 
of people, and the same individuals, have nobly re- 
jected the rewards which were the original incite- 
ments. The pleasure of doing good soon introduces 
an attachment, and love for the objects of our kind 
attentions ; and there will always be a disposition 
to assist a beloved object, which will increase until 
personal interest may be totally forgotten. Intense - 
ness of affection has not unfrequently been produc- 
tive of the most disinterested acts of benevolence ; 

H 2 and 



100 



ON DISINTERESTED 



and imminent dangers, to which individuals of the 
human species have been exposed, although com- 
parative strangers, have had a similar influence upon 
generous minds. The magnitude of the evil hath, 
in the latter case, acted with equal momentum, as 
the strength of affection in the former. This leads 
us to the other question, 

May not the most exalted of the benevolent af- 
fections be traced to self-love as the origin ? 

The history of human nature seems to authorize 
the following statement, which may serve for an an- 
swer. The lirst principle of action is self-love. 
This, in the infancy of existence, is sole ; and it is 
always unreasonable and extravagant in its desires 
and expectations. Personal attachments are sub- 
sequently added. These begin to moderate the ex- 
cesses of self-love, We always desire to please 
those to whom w^e are warmly attached ; and even 
enjoy a pleasure in making those sacrifices which 
will be acceptable to them. This is the dawning 
of benevolence. We are no longer perfectly inso- 
lated beings. We are drawn out of ourselves, by 
our love to others. This affection of love is a plea- 
sant affection, superior in the enjoyment to the gra- 
tifications of sense, which were the primary objects. 
It is excited by something obviously good in an- 
otlier. This good we delight to reward, by some acts 
of kindness on our parts, and we honour the cha- 
racter 



BENEVOLENCE. 



101 



racter, by desiring to be beloved by it. In the earlier 
stages of childhood we are indifferent to strangers, 
and are careless about their opinions concerning us. 
The sprightly and amiable child is caressed by every 
one. It perceives that it is the favourite of others, 
and, if not perversely humoured, it attempts to de- 
serve their love by acceptable behaviour. From those 
with whom it is immediately connected, it receives the 
most constant marks of attention, and unto those it 
becomes most attached. Hence arises affection 
in return for parental^ and fraternal attachments 
from mutual aids and mutual enjoyments. Thus 
is home the nursery of the benevolent affections. 
From hence they may be extended into the vicinity; 
to all those with w^hom v/e have social intercourse, 
whose good qualities are pleasing to us ; and, by due 
culture, may be extended over the districts in which 
we dwell, the land of our nativity, and finally to 
the whole human species. The language now is, 
All mankind are our brethren. In this state we 
enjoy a pleasure in contemplating their prosperity ; 
but it is their prosperity which communicates the 
pleasure, not our ozvn. Their afflictions, not our 
orvn, give us pain, and their relief becomes the 
spring of our benevolent actions towards them. 
When the mind is so far advanced in mora culture, 
Self ceases to be primary in our thoughts. We are 
still actuated by Love, and vve enjoy a pleasure in 

the 



/ 



10£ ON DISINTERESTED 

the indulgence, because love in its own nature is the 
most delightful of our sensations : but this love 
has a character perfectly distinct from the self-love 
which had a primary influence. Should any one 
be induced by his hypothesis to refine upon these 
principles, and say that by adopting others into our 
affections, they become as it were one with us, and 
this is the source of our love towards them, — it 
must be acknowledged that there is no danger from 
this kind of sublimation of the social afi^ections ; 
for no one can be injured by so exalted a species of 
self-love, which acts so diametrically opposite to its 
original character. The self-complacency, the glow 
of satisfaction, which is the certain consequence of 
pure disinterested benevolence, in extraordinary 
cases, is the just recompense of extraordinary vir^ 
tue. We perceive with satisfaction that we have 
subdued that self-love M'hich, in depraved minds, is 
the most rampant and the most tyrannical principle 
of action ; which always blights the general happi- 
ness, to the extent of its influence. We rejoice, and 
we have a right to rejoice, that we can enjoy hap- 
p'mess from that prosperity of those around us, which 
excites envy, hatred, and ill-will, in minds of a sor- 
did mould. Our joy is still more elevated, when we 
become champions for the good of others : when 
we expose ourselves to dangers to combat the evils 
which threaten them ; and which perhaps the low 

passions 



BENEVOLENCE. 



103 



passions of revenge and boundless self-love would 
prompt ignoble minds to inflict. 

The above statement perfectly corresponds with 
the character of Love, as delineated in a former 
work*. Whatever and whoever may be the ob- 
jects of affection, they will become the objects of 
our care. A favourite parrot or a favourite lap-dog 
will receive caresses from trifling minds, and will 
be served with fond attention, though they would 
have been neglected without these attachments. 
In our attachments to the human species, disin- 
terestedness will always be proportionate to the 
strength of our affections. Nor are instances want' 
ing in which stronger affections have induced men 
to sacrifice their lives in protecting a beloved ob* 
ject. To conclude, 

Who can sufficiently admire that constitution of 
things which has placed the supreme happiness of 
man in communicating happiness to others ? Who 
can sufficiently despise the grovelling soul, w^hose 
only object is self-gratification ? and who will regret 
that such a soul can never possess what it covets ? 
— that it is condemned to feed upon husks alone, 
and to remain an eternal stranger to the luxuries of 
Benevolence ! 

* See Philosophical Treatise on the Passions: Article Love. 



SPECULATION III. 



HUMAN NATURE ENDOWED WITH A 
MORAL SENSE, TO PERCEIVE MORAL 
PRINCIPLES, IN A MANNER ANALO- 
GOUS TO THE ORGANS OF SENSE IN 
THE PERCEPTION OF EXTERNAL OB- 
JECTS ? 



SPECULATION III. 



IS HUMAlSr NATURE ENDOWED WITH A MORAL 
SENSE, TO PERCEIVE MORAL PRINCIPLES, IN 
A MANNER ANALOGOUS TO THE ORGANS OF 
SENSE IN THE PERCEPTION OF EXTERNAL 
OBJECTS ? 

The quick and instantaneous perception of right 
and wrong, in actions and dispositions, wiiich is so 
frequently observable in moral agents ; the horror 
immediately inspired by the perception of moral 
turpitude, and the glow of admiration accompany- 
ing noble deeds, — have induced some eminent mo- 
ralists to suppose, that there is a peculiar constitu- 
tion in the nature of man, or a distinct faculty, spe- 
cifically appointed to produce these effects. It is 
forcibly urged that promptitude of action is often 
necessary ; and it is equally necessary that the cor- 
respondent disposition should be immediately ex- 
cited, without the slow progress of ratiocination : — 
that in such cases it is the office of reason to ap- 
prove of the conduct afterwards, rather than to be 
consulted previously. Hence the compassionate 
heart instantly sympathizes with apparent distress, 

and 



108 



EXISTENCE OF 



and is immediately prompted to administer relief, 
without deliberating with itself, whether there be 
any claim of right, or to what an extent administer- 
ing succour becomes a duty. There are many vir- 
tues on which the mind, that is not totally brutalized, 
is eager to bestow the meed of approbation and ap- 
plause ; and there are some vices which inspire con- 
tempt, the moment they are detected. These prin- 
ciples operate so extensively, that we may, gene- 
rally speaking, assent to the remark of Professor 
Hutcheson, that " there is no one to whom all actions 
appear equally indifferent; that moral differences 
are discernible, though no advantages are obtained. 
We feel pleasure in worthy affections in ourselves 
and others ; or the contrary in the contrary." 

These facts appearing, from the promptitude and 
almost universality of their operation, not to be 
within the province of reason, are supposed to re- 
quire a principle superadded to the guidance of rea- 
son ; a kind of auxiliary, whose quicker influence 
is better adapted to urgent occasions. 

The moral philosophers who entertain these opi- 
nions, have given to the proposed principle the title 
of a moral sense. Thus it is supposed that there is 
a sixth sense in man, which is subservient to moral 
purposes, analogous to the five senses which main- 
tain his connexion with sensible objects. They as- 
sert that the eye does not distinguish with more cer- 
tainty 



A MORAL SENSE. 109 

tainty and readiness, between black and white in 
colours, or the ear between harmonious and dis- 
cordant sounds, or the touch between rough and 
smooth, than the mind distinguishes between the 
excellency and deformity of moral conduct. Hence 
they infer that the Author of our frame has added 
another sense, appropriated to the discernment of 
moral objects ; and that, as we never consult our rea- 
son whether our optics shall be delighted or offend- 
ed, by certain impressions respecting size, shape, 
colour, distance ; or whether our palate shall be 
disgusted or gratified with particular viands,— thus 
do our approbation and disapprobation of human 
actions appear to be equally instantaneous, and 
equally to reject the necessity of reasoning upon 
the subject. 

This theory has a specious aspect ; but it ought 
not to be hastily adopted. There are many and 
powerful objections to it, which require mature con- 
sideration. 

I. It is merely a supposition, advanced in order 
to explain phasnomena which appear not to admit 
'of any other explanation ; and it is supported by 
no other arguments than those which arise from 
analogical reasoning, which ought to be admitted 
with caution. The argument is solely founded upon 
the supposition, that similar appearances originate 
from the same causes. But facts do not always 

justify 



110 



EXISTENCE OE 



justify the inference. Numberless are the instances 
in which effects, apparently similar, are produced 
by various and even opposite causes. This is well 
known to every medical practitioner, and is the 
frequent occasion of his embarrassments. It is an 
acknowledged axiom, that extremes beget each other. 
This being the case, the argument from analogy is 
not sufficiently potent to support, of itself, any par- 
ticular hypothesis, although its aid may sometimes 
be admitted as an auxiliary*. It is upon the prin- 
ciple of analogy that we incessantly make use of 
metaphorical language. Subjects totally different 
in their intrinsic nature, dignity, importance, &c. 
may possess such points of similarity as to autho- 
rize a reference, either for the sake of elucidation, 
in order to elevate, or to degrade. Those who do 
not adopt the hypothesis of a moral sense, will not 
scruple to speak of the m 'md's eye, subjects of men- 
tal taste, mental harmony, discoi^dant vices, &c. Re- 
specting the subject under consideration, although 
some appearances seem to warrant an inference that 
the causes are analogous, there are many other ap- 
pearances and other circumstances, which power- 
fully militate against the position. For instance, 

II. It may be urged, that if a moral sense exist- 
ed, of the nature, and for the purposes supposed by 
its advocates, a dispute concerning its existence could 

* See Spec. L p. 64. 

not 



A MORAL SENSE. 



Ill 



not have arisen. The mental sense would have been 
as obvious as any of the corporeal senses. The man 
whose olfactory nerves are in such a healthy state 
that he can distinguish odours, never calls their 
existence into question. Every one knows that he 
has optics to see and distinguish objects, and an 
ear to distinguish sounds. The reluctance with 
which the doctrine of a sixth sense is received by 
one party, and the incapacity of the other to de- 
monstrate its existence, fully prove that the cases 
are not perfectly parallel, and lead us to suspect 
that there may be an essential discrepancy. 

III. The natural senses are known to be con- 
nate with the existence of every human being, whose 
conformation is acknowledged to be perfect. The 
bodily organs are in exercise from the earliest pe- 
riod. But it is not so with a moral sense. In many 
persons there are no appearances of it in the earlier 
stages of their existence; in others, it never appears. 
IVIultitudes, whose bodily organs are perfect, seem 
to be totally destitute of this sense ; and to possess 
no other mental feeling than that which relates to 
their own personal interests. They are alike indif- 
ferent to whatever bears the marks either of turpi- 
tude or of moral excellence. The ideas of right 
and wrong in human conduct, which the hypothesis 
must suppose to be connate with the human mind, 
are never observable in a young cliild. How many 

little 



11£ 



EXISTENCE OF 



little acts of an injurious nature would he commit, 
if not restrained, without knowing that they were in- 
jurious ! He seizes every thing within his reach, 
without any sensations relative to justice or injus- 
tice. The humoured child always thinks that he has 
a right to every thing that he desires, and resents 
a refusal as an injustice and cruelty. The little ty- 
rant behaves, in his small circle, like great tyrants 
in their larger spheres, as if the whole creation 
were at their disposal, or formed for their sole gra- 
tification. The phagnomena which have suggested 
the idea of a moral sense, are seldom discovered in 
persons whose education has been grossly neglected : 
and where it seems to exist, it is frequently obtunded 
or destroyed by bad example and vicious habits. 
The moral sensibility improves by our progress in 
virtue ; it is rendered callous by the repetition of 
crimes ; it recovers its quick susceptibility by per- 
manent reformation. How essentially different is 
this from the state of our corporeal senses ! These 
are quick and lively in childhood and youth, and all 
the effects of habits consist not in enabling the or- 
gans to see, feel, or hear, in a manner totally dif- 
ferent, but in acquiring greater accuracy of percep- 
tion, and distinguishing greater varieties in the same 
object. 

This leads us to another objection. 
IV. We observe a perfect uniformity in the ex- 
ercise 



A MORAL SENSE. 



113 



ercise of each of the five senses, through the whole 
of the human species. The healthy organs of all 
men, in similar situations, are affected in a shnilar 
manner. The colour which appears blue to one 
man, will not appear yellow to another, and white 
to a third. The notes which are perfectly harmo- 
nious, never appear discordant to a sound ear, al- 
though it may not be equally pleased with the tune. 
One person will prefer a sour taste to sweetness, and 
another the reverse, yet the one is not mistaken for 
the other. But different persons will form the most 
opposite opinions, and feel very different sensations^ 
respecting the same action. One will censure as a 
proof of cowardice, the precautions which another 
will highly applaud as prudential. One will deem an 
action to be courageous and heroic, which another 
censures as rash, and bordering upon insanity. One 
will condemn as an unpardonable cruelty, that which 
the judgement of another approves as an indispen- 
sable act of justice. Differences and mistakes like 
these have never been imputed to our corporeal or- 
gans, when in a sound and healthy state. There is 
a perfect uniformity of opinion concerning the 
shape, size, colour of visible bodies, of roughness, 
smoothness, hardness, softness in tangible sub- 
stances, &c. 

V. These essential differences destroy the cha- 
racter of the moral sense, as an infallible guide and 

I director 



114 EXISTENCE OF 

director of conduct. They demonstrate that strong 
sensations, in moral subjects, are frequently very er- 
roneous ; nor ought the agent or the observer to trust 
to their decisions, in forming his judgement con- 
cerning the moral nature of particular acts. The 
heart may glow with the warm approbation of 
wrong actions, and be ashamed of what is right. 
National customs and manners, particular modes of 
education, romantic notions, partial views of a sub- 
ject, may exert all that influence ascribed to amoral 
sense ; may incite to actions justly reprobated by 
minds well informed, and produce consequences of 
the most fatal nature; and implant notions of strict 
propriety, respecting conduct the most erroneous and 
most fatal in its consequences. They introduce con- 
trarieties, which confound every system of morals that 
has ever been proposed, upon their principles. They 
have exalted an ambitious worthless monster into an 
admired hero ; and thus crowned with laurels the 
man deserving of universal execration. One class 
of moral beings will revere the conduct of pious 
iEneas, who conveyed his aged sire on his shoulders 
from the flames of Troy, while a race of sympathe- 
tic wanderers will manifest such a concern for the 
aged and infirm, that the destruction of them shall 
be considered as an act of humanity. At one period^ 
and in one district, trembling captives shall be slain 
by their conquerors, not only without any feelings 

of 



A MORAL SENSE. 115 

of compassion, but with insulting ecstasies; and at 
other times the captive shali be adopted into the 
tribe of his conqueror, and be treated with parental 
affection. This moral sentiment will loudly applaud 
the dangerous efforts made to save an individual 
from drowning, and yet it does not always remon- 
strate against the destruction of helpless infants to 
avoid an excess of population. The rulers of the 
Synagogue were restrained by their moral sense 
from purchasing a field with the price of blood, 
though it did not prevent them from the atrocious 
act of murdering the innocent. It is this which 
animates tiie young Hindoo female to sacrifice her 
life to the manes of an aged husband. It is a re- 
ligious sentiment which prompts the holy fathers 
of an Inquisition to punish heretics as enemies to 
God : and it is sentiment which stimulates an 
assassin to act like a man of honour, when he 
plunges the stiletto into the breast of an inoffensive 
stranger. 

The answer to such objections is evasive and un- 
satisfactory. It is said, that although we mistake 
in particular instances, yet it is the moral sense 
which approves or censures when the trath of the 
case is ascertained. But as this must be ascertained 
by another principle, moral feelings cannot act with 
safety until that principle has been consulted; conse- 
quently they are notofthemselves the proper stimu- 
I 2 lants 



116 



EXISTENCE GE 



laiits either to shun vice or to practise virtue. It 
now appears that knowledge, reason, judgement, are 
absolutely required to enable us to discover what 
sentiments, dispositions, or conduct are deserving 
of applause or of disgrace. Mental culture therefore 
becomes necessary, that we may praise or blame 
according to the dictates of a sound understanding. 
We must be informed of what is right or wrong, by 
an application to some standard ; and we must be 
disposed to love the one and hate the other, before these 
feehngscan be in salutary exercise. While the Spar- 
tan youth deems dexterous theft to be highly honour- 
able, he will attempt to steal, both for prais^and pro-, 
fit; and so will children born in a Christian country, 
whose parents have trained them up to the practice. 
Remove them from connexions where they imbibe 
such erroneous maxims, instruct them in the princi- 
ples of equity ; and if you be successful in your at- 
tempts to form their minds to the love of virtue, 
they will become ashamed of practices which were, 
tlieir glory among their wicked associates. The 
Hindoo female is irresistibly influenced by a sense, 
of honour, or the fear of disgrace ; and these ulti- 
mately suggest the idea of an indispensable dut) . 
The wretched custom with which she is thus, 
impelled to comply, was probably introduced 
by some romantic mind, that, in its frantic grief, 
could not sustain the loss of an adored husband. 

The 



A MORAL SENSE. 117 

The reiterated accents of applause and admira- 
tion, which resounded from every quarter, among a 
people whose hearts were attuned to the admira- 
tion of great and noble deeds, — but who mistook 
their nature,— inspired other romantic minds to imi- 
tate an example which immortalized the name of 
the victim ; until, in process of time, to refuse this 
self-dedication was considered as an ia;nominious 
token of the want of conjugal affection, too keen 
to be endured : a sense of shame perpetuated a cus- 
tom which was probably introduced by an excess of 
affection; and the universal admiration of these tes- 
timonies of unbounded affection, naturally inspired 
the idea of their being singularly meritorious. But 
a deed which the whole Hindoo nation has long ad- 
mired as heroic, and a Hindoo moralist would 
ascribe to the dictates of a moral sense, others, who 
are at a distance from the sphere of influence, 
justly reprobate as absurd and cruel. Saul the 
Pharisee, persecuted the first proselytes to Christi- 
anity as mad enthusiasts, as followers of a man 
who was subverting the relidon which he knew was 
from God : and he was instigated by his ardent 
zeal for the honour of ,God, to support the cause 
of God. Paul the apostle, gloried in that cross, 
which he had formerly considered as a scandal and 
a stumbling-block. His moral convictions now as- 
sured him that in the days of his zeal xvithout knozv^ 

ledge, 



118 



EXISTENCE OF 



ledge, he had been an enemy to the truth as it is in 
Jesus, that he had murdered the people of God, and 
impiously opposed the benevolent plans of Heaven. 

Hence it is plain that the quick feeling, excited 
by an action reputedly good or bad, does not imme- 
diately result from a perception of the true nature 
of the action, in the same manner as the impressions 
which are made upon the organs of sense. They 
have intermediates. Opinions are previously form- 
ed, concerning the nature of that which inspired the 
feeling : and as the sensation follows the opinion, it is 
as changeable as opinion, and it possesses distinct 
characters, according to the various opinions which 
maybe formed. Opinions may exist without exciting 
any sensation; whereas these strong moral feelings 
cannot have an existence before certain opinions are 
formed ; and these cannot be formed with any de- 
gree of accuracy, without an intimate knowledge of 
various circumstances, upon which the essential 
character and different colourings of an action may 
depend. 

To illustrate this statement by a familiar exam- 
ple. We are informed that a man is killed sud- 
denly. He was a stranger to us, but we are struck 
with a degree of horror at the news. This horror 
manifestly arises from the instinctive love of life, 
common to all men, and to all animals. If we per- 
sonally knew the man, our horror is augmented by 

the 



A MORAL SENSE. 119 

the influence of the social principle, and also ac- 
cording to the degrees of our intimacy. We hear 
that his death was accidental : this excites no addi- 
tional sensation, excepting that of pity. We hear 
that he was murdered. This renders the sensation 
extremely keen. Ideas of injustice, barbarity, &c. 
imniediately arise, and we are incensed against the 
perpetrator of the crime. He was murdered in the 
act of protecting innocence, and he lost his life in 
saving that of another. Other emotions arenowcon- 
joined ; we perceive a benevolence and elevation of 
character : love and admiration are now mingled 
with our other feelings, and greatly augment our 
regret. Should we on the contrary be told that 
he was the aggressor; that he was killed in at- 
tempting to rob or murder another, Indignation 
would arise. We should acknowledge the justice of 
his punishment; and our natural horror at the event 
would be stripped of all those commiserating feelings 
which a prior information had excited. The hypo- 
thesis supposes that approbation or disapproba- 
tion is a simple state of the mind ; which is not the 
case. They both arise from a complication of causes. 
First som.e deed or some intention must be known. 
Here then a certain portion of knowledge is com- 
municated to the mind, independent of the effect 
produced. The deed may be indifferent to us, and 
attract no attention ; or it may seem to possess 

some 



120 



EXISTENCE OE 



some degree of merit or demerit; and accordingly 
is it either approved or censured. But how can this 
sentence of applause or condemnation be passed, 
unless the umpire himself has been made previously 
acquainted with the nature of merit and demerit? 
He must refer to some standard, with which he 
must be accurately acquainted, before he will be 
competent to judge. It is therefore unphilosophi- 
cal to suppose that there be any simple provision, 
in the constitution of the human mind, to enable it 
to decide, in a very complicated case, however sim- 
ple the impression made by it may appear; by which 
we can safely pronounce at once, without knowing 
why; for if we know whij^ we know the reason, \\\\\Qh 
is very distinct from the impression produced. 

In all such cases, an accurate knowledge of con^ 
tingent circumstances must precede the impression, 
and must point out its nature. Thus it is most ob- 
vious that our feelings cannot indicate that an ac- 
tion is excellent or base. We presuppose that it was 
one or the other : and notwithstanding the incon- 
ceivable celerity with which ideas run through the 
mind, there is a process in which intellectual pow- 
ers are at work, or have been at work, and which is 
totally unknown in sensations from corporeal organs. 
Again, 

VI. It is observable that the advocates for a 
moral sense confine their ideas entirely to moral 

principles 



A MORAL SENSE. 



12i 



principles and concluct,imagining that moral agency is 
thus honoured with a peculiar faculty correspondent 
to its superior importance : but the arguments by 
which they support the tenet are equally applicable 
to other mental sensations, or as it were percussions 
of sentiment, as w'ell as those which are strictly mo- 
ral ; and these are extremely numerous. A sense of 
honour, the blush of shame, are as quick and vigo- 
rous as any which arise from moral causes. There 
is a sense of dignity, a sense of meanness, a sense 
of propriety, of impropriety, as instantaneous in its 
influence, where the action is not virtuous or vicious. 
A high sense of honour is sometimes in league with 
injustice and murder. It glows in the breast of the 
gamester, who defrauds an honest tradesman, in or- 
der to pay his debts of honour to a noted sharper. 
It calls forth the duellist into the field, and com- 
pels him to shed the blood of his intimate friend. 
There is also a religious sense, highly injurious to 
human happiness, and impelling to actions which 
reason loudly condemns. It impels the deluded vo- 
tary to submit to every horror, from an imperious 
sense of duty. This has inspired a persevering re- 
solution in a faquir to clench the fist, until his nails 
have grown through the palm of his hand; to stiffen 
himself into particular attitudes for life ; to throw 
himself under the chariot wheels of his tremendous 
deity, with all the transports of animated devotion. 

It 



122 



EXISTENCE OF 



It may also be urged, that if the sudden effect pro- 
duced upon a percipient, in moral subjects, be an 
evidence of a distinct mental sense, wh}^ may we not 
suspect that there may be an immoral sense ? for it 
frequently happens under the impetuosity of the pas- 
sion, that sentiments and sensations instantaneously 
arise, not without consulting, but contrary to the 
dictates of, reason. Unchaste desires, cowardice, 
or a pusillanimous sense of danger, an implacable 
sense of revenge, calling aloud for exemplary punish- 
ment, are as prompt in their influence as the appro- 
bation of virtuous, or the disapprobation of vicious 
actions. And it may be that, when these passions 
subside, they will give place to a quick and painful 
sense of shame, fear, and remorse. 

Thus, however specious the doctrine of a moral 
sense may appear, upon a partial view of it, pow^er- 
ful are the objections which present themselves to 
a minute examiner. 

But it will be asked. To what cause shall we as- 
cribe those instantaneous impressions ? and how shall 
we explain the quick incitement, apparently without 
the intervention of reason, or consciousness of re- 
flection ? We might answer, that these questions 
equally belong to every sudden impulse or instan- 
taneous impression ; and if the advocate can solve 
them, in subjects w^here morality is not concerned, 

why 



A HORAL SENSE. 



12? 



why may he not apply the same sokition to moral 
subjects? But I flatter myself that principles 
which have been fully explained upon a former oc- 
casion, will furnish a reply to both of these queries*'. 

We formerly observed that approbation and dis- 
approbation, are excited by the quick perception of 
merit or of demerit; or by the assumption th-dit these 
characters belong to the deed, or to the agent. An 
assumption being more or less conjectural may be 
fallacious, but it still directs our opinion respecting 
the agent. A right perception proceeds from, our 
being duly instructed in the nature of virtue and 
vice ; and also concerning every material circum- 
stance relative to specific acts. Whatever is 
deemed meritorious, is invariably supposed to be 
conducive to some good, either personal or social ; 
and high degrees of merit relate to whatever is de- 
signed to produce extensive good. Whatever de- 
merit appears in vice or folly, is derived from its be- 
ing in some way or other injurious to well being : and 
this will augment, in our estimation, proportionably 
to the extent of evil, or the malignity of design. 

We have attempted to prove that the grand cha- 
racteristic of virtue consists in its being an energy 
of mind, designedly exerted by a voluntary agent, 
productive of personal or social advantages, accord- 

* See Eth. Treat, on Conduct. Approbation, Disapproba- 
tion, p. 108» 

ing 



124 EXIS^rENCEOF 

log to certain invariable principles ; and that vice, 
notwithstanding its personal gratifications and tem- 
porary advantages, is in its own nature inimical to 
permanent happiness. We have also shown that 
our love of good, and our hatred of whatever appears 
to be an evil, enstamps a value upon every thing 
which contributes to good ; and we approve of the 
intentional a2;ent: whereas we hate whatever W'e 
deem injurious in its tendency, and severely censure 
a designing agent. We have shown, moreover, that 
the degrees of our approbation or censure, are al- 
ways proportionate to the perception of degrees in 
the merit or demerit of an action, connected with 
the extent of good or of evil produced. These 
pleasant or unpleasant sensations may rise to very 
strong emotions ; from simple approbation, which 
seems to be the decision of the judgement, con- 
nected with a certain sentiment of feeling of the 
heart, they may swell to enthusiastic applause ; and 
from the mildest censure they may become indigna- 
tion and horror. Thus we commend prudence and 
discretion ; we applaud incorruptible integrity; and 
we admire with raptures the extraordinary exertions 
or sacrifices of benevolence. We disappro'oe of 
imprudence, condemn injustice, and hold acts of 
cruelty in detestation. There are, in like manner, 
the nicest gradations observable in our complacen- 
tial affections. A certain degree of worth attracts 

our 



A MOPvAL SElSrSE. 



125 



our esteem ; we say the character is estimable. 
The characters of others call forth respect and ve- 
neration ; and of others our warmest admiration. 
On the contrary, displacency, at some actions^ if they 
be more strongly marked with folly than with vice, 
will produce the not unpleasant, but the satirical 
and corrective emotion of irrision ; while others 
create disrespect, contempt, disdain, &c. according 
to our perceptions of meanness, or peculiar base* 
ness of character and conduct. We have remark- 
ed that in these affections a bad opinion of the 
agent is inspired by the love of virtue, united with 
an inward consciousness that we are superior to 
these vices. 

Perceptions and sensations, of this nature, will be 
more or less vivid in different persons, according to 
a natural sensibility, or to the state of moral and 
mental culture. Some appear to be insensible to 
the beauties of virtue or the deformity of vice. 
Those alone who have quick natural feelings, or who 
have been properly disciplined in the school of vir- 
tue, will have their minds attuned to the correspon- 
dent impressions. 

The quickness and apparent instantaneousness 
of these impressions, without the deliberation of a 
moment, may be easily explained by adverting to 
principles known to exist, and known to have a 
very extensive influence : which takes away the ne=» 

cessity 



126 



EXISTENCE Of 



cessity of devising an hypothesis, in order to explain 
phasnomena. The doctrine of a moral sense teaches, 
that especial provision is made for the immediate 
discernment of merit and demerit, in human actions, 
in order to encourage and facilitate the practice of 
virtue. But numerous facts will manifest that a si- 
milar facility of discernment, and of correspondent 
action, pervades every department of human agen- 
cy. We possess that happy principle which rewards 
our progress in every thing we wish to acquire, and 
without which we should be perpetually condemned 
to the slowness of novitiates. Frequent repetitions 
in every thing introduce habit ; and habit in its 
effects is assimilated to instinct. Fortunately it is 
common to every thing we practise, without excep- 
tion. Its incalculable advantages are equally the 
property of the unlearned and the learned, of the 
mere peasant and the accomplished scholar. Habit 
is, a*s it w ere, instantaneous in its operations ; but 
the introduction of habit, is frequently slow and dif- 
licult. Facilities are the result of much practice, 
and may have been acquired by much application 
and labour; although, after perfection is attained, we 
may forget the slow stages of gradual improvement;, 
and censure those who are not as expert as ourselves. 
The most rapid reader and the most fluent speaker, 
commenced by learning the letters of the alpha- 
bet; by spelling monosyllables, dissyllables, trisylla- 
bles; 



A MORAL SElSrSE. 327 

bles, Sec. and by tedious attempts to form the or- 
gans of speech to the proper utterance of articulate 
sounds. The most expert musician, whose execu- 
tion outstrips attention to his notes, commenced by 
the gamut. Perhaps he was at the commencement 
discouraged by difficulties which seemed almost in- 
surmountable ; but arrived at perfection in his art, 
he would feel himself embarrassed by an attention 
to those very rules by which his accomplishments 
were obtained. It is by virtue of this principle that 
all the concerns of common life are transacted with 
so much facihty and dispatch. The expert sailor, 
and the disciplined soldier, obey the word of com- 
mand, with amazing promptitude, without delibe- 
rating about its object, or the manner of acting, as 
at the commencement of their service. Merchants 
and tradesmen speak of the various articles in their 
different concerns, without the specific attention to 
their different qualities or prices, which their inex- 
perience had at first rendered necessary ; and they 
incessantly speak of weights and measures, M'ithout 
any longer deliberating about their respective quan- 
tities. The shepherd's boy pays his toll for his 
scores of sheep without reflecting, at the time, that, 
a score is the numerical word for twenty : and his 
coin is received without any further inquiries into 
the number of pence which constitute a shillingo 
These and innumerable instances of a similar nature 

are 



1S8 



EXISTENCE OF 



are precisely in the predicament of virtue and vice; 
and yet no one has imagined an internal sense ap- 
propriate to each. Such facilities are confessedly 
acquirements, and not the gifts of nature. To the 
Initiated the effects or impressions are immediate ; 
but there riiust be a previous initiation. This suf- 
ficiently explains the reason, why, in no case, are 
such quick impressions and facilities of action wwi- 
^ersal. The love of virtue and hatred of vice, di- 
stinctions quickly discerned, and strong sensations 
correspondent to their character, are equally the 
acquirements of virtuous minds. The promptitude 
and strength of feeling will be proportionate to the 
virtuous habits and propensities of men, in unison 
with the natural susceptibility of their frames. 
Here also, as in the preceding cases, some will be 
more expert scholars than others. 

All that can be ascribed to the constitution of 
human nature in this question, is an inherent love 
of well-being, an immediate attachment to that 
%vhich is apparently good, or productive of happi- 
ness ; and a hatred of the opposites, as soon as such 
qualities are ascertained. These sensations of love 
and hatred, as we have already observed, accom- 
pany our opinions, when we cannot immediately 
penetrate into the nature of actions. Our opinions 
are frequently erroneous : but when our minds are 
duly informed ; when we have just sentiments of 

the 



A MORAL SENS^l, 129 

the nature and tendencies of particular actions and 
dispositions, these virtuous sensations render us 
prompt in the execution. No time is lost in deli- 
beration ; and we enjoy a pleasure in the exercise 
of such virtuous affections, which is both a reward 
and an encouragement. In these respects also we 
trace a similarity in secular alTaii's. Every pursuit 
in life is professedly a pursuit of some good. Habit 
introduces a pleasurable facility in the use of the 
means : habit renders occupations agreeable^ while 
the desired effects are accomplished in the mo^t 
expeditious n3.anner. 




SPECULATION IV. 



ARE THE ACTIONS AND VOLITIONS OF 
MEN NECESSARY, IN GIVEN CIRCUM- 
STANCES ? O R, C I RC U M ST ANC E S BEING 
THE SAME, COULD A CONTRARY VOLI- 
TION BE rORMED,OR A CONTRARY CON- 
DUCT HAVE BEEN ADOPTED? 



K 2 



1 

1 ou 



SPECULATION IV. 

ARF THE ACTIONS AND VOLITIONS OF MEN NE- 
CESSARY, IN GIVEN CIRCUMSTANCES? OR, 
CIRCUMSTANCES BEING THE SAME, COULD A 
CONTRARY VOLITION BE FORMED, OR A CON- 
TRARY CONDUCT HAVE BEEN ADOPTED? 

In our second Speculation we endeavoured to vin- 
dicate the motives which influence virtuous minds^ 
from the charge of perpetual selfishness ; in our 
tJiir^d, we attempted to prove that the quick appro- 
bation and censure accompanying distinguished vir- 
tues and vices, are not to be ascribed to an instinc- 
tive moral sense, but introduced by a rational con- 
viction of the beneficial nature of the one, and per- 
nicious nature of the other. The present question 
refers to an attack upon moral conduct, from a quar- 
ter distinct from self-interest^ but which, like that, 
threatens to annihilate every species of merit. Foi' 
whatever is deemed necessary^ seems to opposej/ree- 
agency ; and whatever opposes free-agency is appa- 
rently inimical to the idea of merit, and a powerful 
apologist for those actions or dispositions we are 
most prone to censure. The subject is therefore of 
no small importance. 

This 



134 



DOCTRINE OF 



This question has been agitated for ages, and it 
still continues to be agitated ; of consequence, it has 
not been satisfactorily answered. But what is the 
cause of the dissatisfaction ? Every one who writes, 
supposes that he understands the question ; and 
the acutest abilities have been engaged in the solu- 
tion of it. Hence a suspicion arises that there may 
be some defect, or some impropriety, in the mode of 
treating it. If so, the previous questions are. Wherein 
lie these defects, and how can they be remedied ? 
We would answer, that they may possibly consist in 
the too frequent practice of philosophical inquirers, 
of precipitately rushing into the very centre of a 
debate, without a cautious examination of every 
leading circumstance which belongs to the subject. 
In the question before us, tllere are several thino;s 
to be previously ascertained, — the g7xat object for 
which we are endowed with the power of volition, 
—the pixcise nature of volition, and the motive 
inducing volition. Just conceptions concerning the 
words liberty^ necessity, must, can, cannot, &c. are 
also to be formed, and to possess the acquiescence 
of each party, before the dispute can be amicably ac- 
commodated. But this mode has not been pursued 
to the extent required. Controversialists, after they 
have debated about cause and effect, and ofttimes 
in a desultory manner, have directed their chief at- 
tention to the supposed consequences of the diffe- 
rent 



MTtOSOPIIICAL NiRCESSlTY. 155 

Vent doctrines. The advocates for human liberty 
are instantly alarmed at the doctrine of Necessity ; 
as if it were a solution of every moral principle ; and 
the Necessarian is eager to demonstrate, that, if his 
doctrine be not true, no human agency can exist ; 
that we must suppose a man to act without any ef- 
ficient inducement ; that is, without any thing to 
excite a desire or propensity to act. Each com- 
batant is tenacious of his own hypothesis, and quits 
the subject dissatisfied with the statements of his 
opponent. 

In the following Speculation we shall pursue a 
different course. We shall lay before the reader va- 
rious particulars respecting human agency, which 
have never been controverted by either party. A 
lucid arrangement of these may furnish a collection 
of facts, with which each party may compare their 
own hypothesis, and thus ascertain the respective 
claims of preference. These facts may throw some 
light upon the subject, should they not possess suf- 
ficient efficacy to terminate the dispute. 

In pursuing our plan, we shall be under the ne- 
cessity of placing before the reader, a summary 
view of those principles which we endeavoured to 
investigate in our Ethical Disquisitions* ; as they 
have an intimate relation to the subject before us, 
and they may not be in the hands of our present 
readers. 



* Sec Ethical Disquisitions, Dassim, 

' '^ All 



136 DOCTRINE OF 

"All men desire good. They all wish to be 
happjo They are pursuing incessantly some por- 
tion or other of this good." 

We all know that happiness is a state in which 
we e?ijoi/ existence ; in which, w hatever makes an 
impression upon us, produces agreeable perceptions 
or sensations." 

" We are placed in this state by the interven- 
tion of certain means, which have some kind or 
degree of adaptation to our nature ; and these re- 
spect our animal, intellectual, or moral constitu- 
tion;' 

" These adaptations owe their origin to certain 
properties or qualities which seem to be possessed 
by the influential objects, and which we expect to 
find in every object we pursue." 

The objects possessing, or which seem to pos- 
sess, these qualities, we consider and w e pursue as 
Si good; because we suppose that they contain some- 
thing good for us ; something which will be produc- 
tive of our weli-bei72g, for the instant, or for a con- 
tinuance." 

" The 7neans of good are infinitely various ; for 
they relate to every state or situation in which ^^e 
can be placed. They may respect present enjoy- 
ment, the gratification of our senses, and our pas- 
sions ; or they may respect something future, and 
something which is more consonant to our intel- 
lectual or our moral natures." 

It 



PIIILOSOPIIICAL NECESSITY. 137 

tt is almost needless to state, that to be rescued 
from impending evil, is always considered as an es- 
sential good. 

^* We may be so situated that we cannot possibly 
enjoy each species of good ; and om^ minds may, 
for a time, be in a state of indecision respecting 
our choice, or the preference to be given. Various 
means seem capable also of promoting the favourite 
object; and we may remain in a state of uncertainty 
which to prefer. The indecision finally terminates, 
and the choice is finally made." 

The choice is made by the subject himself ; ac- 
cording to the determination of his own will, per- 
fectly free from any irresistible impulse, or compul- 
sion from a foreign or external cause ; he feels it 
to be the act of his own will." 

As this act of the will constitutes the essence of 
the debate, it cannot be improper to collect evei^y 
material circumstance respecting it, in order to ob- 
tain the greater precision in our conceptions. We 
shall therefore give an abridged statement of what 
has been advanced concerning the nature of voii- 
tioUj in our disquisition concerning the intellectual 
powers of the mind^. 

" Philosophical volition, according to our concep- 
tions of it, comprehends the following particulars : 
It implies some leading principle of action ; — an in= 

* See Ethic. Disq. part L chap. IV. Foliiion, 

citement 



isg DOCTRINE Ol* 

citement or inducement to perform a certain act ; 
— a desire or inclination formed by this induce- 
ment ; — ability to act according to the desire ex- 
cited ;~the motive which proved influential in de- 
termining the mind — the determination itself 
and the final act." 

" When we speak of Principle, we mean that 
something within the mind of the agent which di- 
rects his propensities, which is preparatory to par- 
ticular acts, or which may constitute the prevalent 
rule of his actions. A man who is distinguished for 
a principle of benevolence is prepared to act with 
liberality and compassion, whenever an occasion 
shall present itself." 

" The principle may exist in an inert state, merely 
constituting a susceptibility in the subject, of being 
excited to action by contingent circumstances." — - 
This may be considered as di predisposing cause. 

" Incitements or inducements belong to the 171- 
fluence which incidental causes have upon the mind ; 
by which a disposition is inspired, in a manner con- 
formably to the principle. Thus the particular wants 
and disti'esses of others become inducements to the 
benevolent mind to administer relief."- — This cor- 
responds with what has been advanced concerning 
an occasional cause. 

" Incitements operate by enkindling desires in 
the breast. An exposure to the influence of in- 
citing 



PHILOSOPHIC AL NECESSITY. 139 

citing objects may possibly create such incUnatiom 
and propensities, as shall change the whole tenor of 
our conduct, where no impediments present them- 
selves, to our acting according to the desires ex- 
cited." — This is the immediate or proximate cause. 

But it is not always in the power of desires to 
be efficient. Impediments may present themselves 
which we cannot remove. A benevolent mind fre- 
quently feels itself incapable of acting to the extent 
of its wishes. In such a case, the will is not syno- 
nymous with philosophical volition. It becomes a 
tvish simply, an impotent desire. It marks a pas- 
sion, or a disposition, which cannot be gratified ; nor 
can it lead to a final determination. Hence philo- 
sophical volition implies the ability to act accord- 
ing to the desires excited." 

If no impediment should present itself, the de- 
sire will immediately be succeeded by a determina- 
tion, to act in a manner correspondent to it." 

" But various impediments, exclusive of natu- 
ral inability or foreign control, may present them- 
selves, to check and subdue the primitive desire. 
Strong objections may influence the will to a deter- 
mination, contrary to the propensities first excited. 
The propensity may be checked by the suggestions 
of prudence, of humanity, of cowardice, of religion, 
&c. Hence it is that all incitements or inducements 
are not equally efficient. Some are simply opera- 
tive 



140 



DOCTRINE OF 



tive in giving a certain bent or incUnation to the 
mindj while others lead to the determination, which 
produces the act itself, and thus become the effi^ 
dent causes*" 

" To the efficient inqitement the term motim ex^ 
clusively belongs." 

As this assertion advances a fact, which has not 
always been obvious, even to philosophers ; nor is 
it altogether in unison with the maxim frequently 
urged by the necessarian philosopher, that, the 
strongest motim must prevail, we shall briefly state 
our vindication of it. 

" Many are the cases in which the natural di- 
stinction between inducement and motive, becomes 
obvious to every man. We know that inducements 
may dispose the mind to act in a particular manner, 
without its complying ; and we know that motive is 
always applied to that which has finally determined 
the mind to act in a particular manner. We can- 
not speak of motives acting in an opposite direction; 
the one impelling the mind to act, and the other re- 
straining it. But w^e may, with propriety, speak of 
opposite inducements ; of which the stronger will 
suppress the weaker, and determine the will. These 
of consequence become the motives, and leave the 
others in the class of inducements* 

" They become the motives, by their becoming 
the strongest inducements.'" As v/e have formerly 

obsein^ed, 



PHILOSOPHICAL :necessity. 141 



observed, should any one say that he had strong 
motives for residing in the country, preferably to the 
metropolis, we should suppose that the determina- 
tion was already made. But should he simply as- 
sert that he was strongly induced to reside in the 
country, we may still suppose that the inducement 
was overruled by important motives. Thus it ap- 
pears that a motive does not prevail, because, in 
competition with other 7notives, it proves itself to 
be the strongest ; but the superior strength of a par- 
ticular inducement manifests its superior influence, 
h]j becoming the motive ; and the assertion that tlie 
strongest motive must prevail, cannot be lucid or 
accurate." • 

We moreover observed that " the very etymology 
of the word corroborates our statement. It is termed 
a motive, because it is the causa movcns ; that which 
actually moves to the performance. A determina- 
tion is now made, and the motive will produce the 
act, unless the intei'vention of some physical cause 
should prove an impediment. The man who lifts 
up his arm to kill his antagonist, may be prevented 
by the weapon's falling from his hand ; or, as in 
military contests, he may himself be destroyed at 
the instant. Without such interventions, the deed 
will be done, when the final resolution is taken." 

*'The act being performed, the whole process 
of volition js terminated, and all power respecting 

it 



DOCTRmE OF 



it terminates also. The deed must now work its 
own w ay, to the production^ of good or evil. From 
absolute masters, as we thought ourselves before the 
commission, we now feel that we are compelled to be 
passive subjects, to the whole train of consequences 
induced by it." 

Before the final determination is made, every 
man perceives that he has a liberty of choice un- 
controlled by foreign causes. He is conscious that 
he is able to weigh and deliberate upon every cir- 
cumstance, and suspend his resolution, lest he should 
determine improperly: and his disposition fluctuates 
according to the inducements which alternately pre- 
sent themselves to his mind. Numerous are the 
concerns of life in which we are obliged to hesitate. 
We are attracted by different views of a subject, 
and our minds vacillate between opposite induce- 
ments. We have supposed that " a soldier is con> 
manded by his superior officer- — to disobey whom 
would be death — to become the executioner of his 
comrade. He hesitates. His mind is distracted 
by the opposite views he takes of the deed enjoined 
upon him : at length the principle of self-preserva- 
tion induces him to obey. 

He ardently desires the life of hi^ associate, 
and he shudders at the thought of becoming his de- 
stroyer. But he knows that his own life depends 
upon his obeying the stern command. He now 

turns 



PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY. 143 

turns his thoughts upon his own perilous situation. 
Life is dear to him, and he wishes to preserve it. 
He therefore hesitates. He again adverts to the 
horrid nature of the deed. His soul recoils. He 
is disposed to die, rather than to violate the laws of 
humanity and friendship. He refuses to obey. He 
is led forth to execution, and is assured that his re- 
fusal will not save the life of his comrade. This 
consideration, and the horrors of death immedi- 
ately before him, make him finally resolve to obey, 
and he performs the deed.'* 

In this conflict of his mind the advocates of free- 
will seem to have just cause for triumph. They 
observe that the agent, in all his changes, follows 
the bent of his inclinations ; and they infer that he 
must be completely master of his own actions. It 
was he himself who changed his own purposes, with 
uncontrolled freedom. 

But the Necessarian has an argument in reserve. 
He maintains that the agent had no poxver over his 
last inducement ; that contingent circumstances gave 
it a superior force. Had he not seen the subject in 
a particular point of view, he would inevitably hare 
acted differently. But as the agent was not master 
of that series of events, or of that train of thoughts, 
which finally induced him to destroy his associate, 
that train impelled the will to perform the deed ; 
and, v*^ere every circumstance precisely the same, 

the 



144 



DOCTRINE OF 



the agent would always act in the same manner. 
In what sense, therefore, the Necessarian will ask, 
could the agent be perfectly master of himself or of 
his motives? 

Some* attempt to evade this argument bj con- 
tending that the mind has a sovereign power over 
every inducement ; but it will not exert this power ; 
and it is this empire of the will over every act, which 
constitutes moral responsibility ; which they main- 
tain to be destroyed by the idea of an irresistible 
iiifluence. 

The Necessarian, on the other hand, asserts that 
a power which, in no one instance of human agency 
has been exercised, a power everlastingly inert, 
cannot be of any utility. If man be so constituted 
that, in given circumstances, he will inrariahly act 
in a particular manner, the destiny of human events 
is in reality as certain as the most strenuous Neces- 
sarian can suppose. If the punishment of human 
delinquency be unjust in one case, it must be unjust 
in the other. The Deity foreknew in what manner 
the offender would act, as certainly as the offender 
was endowed with the power of acting, and was 
exposed by the providence of God to the particu- 
lar incitements to action. That is, the Deity fore- 
knew that the conduct prohibited by his laws, and 
for which the offender will suffer condign punish^ 

* Madame de Stael, Feneloiio 

jneiitj 



VII I LOSOPH I C A L NECESSITY. 



145 



ment, would be as certain as the existence of the 
agent. 

Such arguments have induced some advocates for 
the freedom of the will to deny the prescience of 
God. But the Necessarian deems this to be a tenet 
much more alarming than any of the consequences 
which are imputed to his doctrine. He alleges, that 
it militates against the- absolute perfection of deity; 
that it enfeebles our conceptions of the plenitude of 
his wisdom ; and that it supposes a degree of igno- 
7^a?ice, which is almost as dangerous to human felicity 
as atheism itself. For if the Supreme Being did not 
foresee in what manner the powers and properties of 
all created beings would operate, and zvhat would 
be the effects resulting from them, he must be igno- 
rant whether the purposes of his owm creation would 
be answered. We should thus be reduced to the 
gloomy uncertainty of atheism. Every thing would 
depend upon contingencies, which might be pro- 
ductive of unexpected, as well as of undesigned 

misery^', 
»/ 

Since the terms implying absolute necessity are 
so strongly insisted upon by the Necessarian, and 
are so revolting to the professed advocates for the 
perfect freedom of the human will, in order to ob- 
tain as much light as possible upon this intricate 

* See Note I. - ^ 

L subject, 



U6 



DOCTRINE OF 



subject, we shall proceed to examine in what cases, 
in what connexions, and for what purposes, such 
terms are in common use. We may thus discover 
some diversities in their significations, and be able 
to collect the signification which is most appro- 
priate, and assumes the most conciliating aspect. 

I. The w^ords must, necessary, cannot, &c. &c. 
are applied to those axioms or principles which are 
the basis of the mathematical sciences. The xvhole 
must be larger than a part ; twice two cannot make 
three or Jive, — it must make four. A right line 
placed perpendicularly upon another right line, must 
form two right angles. The radii of the same circle 
must be of an equal length, &c. 

II. The term necessity is applicable to mecha- 
nical powers, or to that mechanic influence which 
one body has upon another. The power of the 
lever, the wedge, the saw, the hammer, the screw ; 
all the laws of ponderosity are subjected to this 
species of necessity. The action of the wind upon 
the sails of a ship, and of a windmill ; the action of 
a current of water upon a water-mill, is necessary 
to set them in motion. It is also necessary that 
these bodies should have a conformation adapted 
to the desired influence. A sharp instrument must 
cut better than a blunt one ; and a heavy weight 
must preponderate, when placed in a balance against 
a light one, 

III. Che^ 



PHILOSOPHICAL KKCESSITY. 147 

III. Chemical powers are also necessarily ope- 
rative. By the laws of chemistry one body has a 
power over another, which cannot be explained by 
any laws of mechanics. By these, soUds become 
fluids, and fluids are rendered solids ; various origi- 
nal properties are destroyed, and new ones are gene- 
rated. Chemistry is subjected to certain laws of 
attraction and repulsion, by which some bodies will 
prefer, as it were, or reject others in various degrees. 
These are so numerous and so various, that the 
chemist finds it difficult to make his experiments, 
with accuracy, from the hidden affinities which in- 
tervene to perplex him. When he succeeds, it is 
because certain established laws must^ in given cir- 
cumstances, produce their particular effects ; and 
when he fails of success, it is owing to the influence 
of certain laws which remain in obscurity, but by 
operating must occasion the failure. 

IV. We apply the terms necessary^ must, it can- 
not be helped, &c. to whatever has an irresistible in- 
fluence upon the animal system, and upon human 
agency. No animal can carry a load beyond his 
strength ; he must necessarily fail in the attempt. 
Every one must yield to a superior power, w'hether 
he wills it or not. This strong language is also ap- 
plied to cases where the influence is not of a phy- 
sical nature. A man may be compelled to obey 

L 2 commands 



148 



BOCTRIISrE OF 



commands the most repugnant to his inclmations. 
The influence of terroi^ is, in some cases, deemed 
equally potent itli an irresistible power of a phy- 
sical nature. A man thus circumstanced is said to 
have acted by compulsion. The freedom of his own 
choice is destroyed, when the alternative would be 
destruction ; although it still remains in his poxver 
to prefer death. 

V. Another law of necessity originates from the 
idea oi consistency in human character and conduct. 
A wise man cannot habitually act foolishly. An 
upright man cannot follow knavish examples. A 
good subject must be obedient to all the equitable 
commands of his sovereign, or of the laws. A moral 
man must lead a virtuous life, &c. &c. In these 
cases a perpetual deviation from the character of a 
wise, upright, moral man, would destroy a claim to 
the character. 

VI. The law of necessity is also obvious when 
voluntary agents must perform some particular act, 
in order to produce some specific effect. He that 
is hungry or thirsty must eat and drink, in order to 
appease his appetites. He that would remove from 
his present situation must use the proper means of - 
conveyance. We always seek to gratify our wishes 
by the use of such means as we may deem ade- 
quate, &c. &c. 

From 



PPIILOSOPHICAL Is^ECESSITY. 149 

From all these inusts, the Necessarian is to make 
his selection : — we will therefore examine into their 
specific differences. 

In the various kinds of necessity mentioned above, 
it is obvious that the Jirst refers to the state and 
relation of things ; so that the i?npossibilitj/ of a 
contrary state or relation is demonstrable. A whole 
must be greater than a part ; for to suppose the 
contrary, would be to suppose that a body vrould 
remain of the same size after it was diminished. 
It is agreed to call that number /b.'/r, which consists 
of four distinct units ; but t^vice two units is equal 
to four ; thus it cannot express either more or less. 
If a right angle be not the result of placing one 
straight line upon another, the line cannot be in a 
perpendicular direction ; for it is characteristic of 
a perpendicular line, that it is equally distant from 
each side of the line upon which it is placed. If 
either of these lines should incline to the right or 
to the left, one angle must be acute, and the other 
mast be obtuse. It is obvious that this kind of ne- 
cessity has not any relation to agency or to com- 
pulsion ; it is confined to the state of things, or to 
their relatiojz with each other. 

In the second, physical impulse is most obvious ; 
and this impulse may be irresistible ; that is, the 
weaker power must yield to the stronger ; and the 
only resistance made by the passive or subdued 

body, 



150 



DOCTRINE or 



body, arises either from the adhesion of its parts, as 
in the penetration of bodies, or from a 'vis inertice 
inimical to motion. 

In chemical necessity something further is ob- 
servable. Bodies seem to act mutually upon eacii 
other, mh a kind of equability in power, and not by 
the superior agency of an active, over a body which 
is totally passive. They seem mutually to attract, 
or mutually to repel : and these powers of attraction 
and repulsion, being different in different bodies, they 
create what are termed affinities, which assume the 
appearance of predilections and aversions*. 

The fourth species of necessity relates to the im- 
pulsive power, which physical bodies may exert upon 
animal nature ; or to the compidsit'e influence exert- 
ed by one moral agent upon another. 

The fifth refers to an obligation which commences 
and terminates with a man's self. It points out the 
impossibility of his being of two opposite characters, 
at the same time. 

The sixth indicates the necessary use of means, 
in order to obtain the desired end. 

We shall proceed to apply these facts to the 
question — Are the actions or volitions of men fie- 
cessary, in given circumstances ? or, circumstances 
being the same, could a contrary volition have been 
formed; or a contrary conduct have been adopted ? 

* See Note 

The 



PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY. 1 5 1 

, The necessity which belongs to our subject, has 
no relation to the first class which we have men- 
tioned, as this has no connexion with action of any 
kind. 

The second and third are confined to the physical 
influence which bodies exert upon each other, in 
which the will of an agent has no concern. The 
corporeal system of animated bodies is subjected 
to this, in common with all other material sub- 
stances : but respecting the mind, whenever the 
will is concerned, it is not to submit, but to gomrn 
— -to superintend and direct physical powers to some 
specific purposes. 

The fourth indicates submission against the will, 
or rather the desire ; it refers to a state over which 
the desire has no control. 

The fifth commences and terminates in self', it 
simply requires a determination of the will, to main- 
tain a consistency of character, and escape absur- 
dities. 

The sixth pre-eminently belongs to our subject. 
For, without attention to this kind of necessity, we 
should not have a motive for the performance of 
any one action. 

This doctrine is, that we must act in a particular 
manner, in order to produce a particular effect. 
If I do not act in that mannner, the effect will not 
be produced \ and I cannot gratify the desire ex- 
cited. 



152 



DOCTHINE OF 



cited. If I refuse to use the means of removal 
from the situation in which I am placed, I must 
continue in it. If I determine to leave it, I must 
use the means of conveyance. I must eat to satisfy 
my hunger, and drink to quench my thirst. But I 
must have food before I can eat. It may be requi- 
site to cut this food into morsels ; I must have a 
knife or some sharp instrument for the purpose, 
&c. &c. . 

Although in all such cases the will is consulted, 
yet the principle itself is very similar to the mecha- 
nical or. chemical influence of bodies, respecting 
cause and effect. The aclion of the wind upon 
the sails of a ship is the cause of its moving, or its. 
motion is the effect of this action. It is equally 
applicable to chemical influence, although the spe- 
cific causes may be more latent. In the cases where 
human agency is concerned, it is the Will which be- 
comes the cause. It is this which takes the lead ; 
it optionally produces the desired effect. I feel not 
the least compulsion absolutely forcing me to walk 
or ride; to eat or drink, to use a knife, &c. I do 
these most mluntarily. The compulsion or absolute 
prohibition consists, in my being obliged to suffer 
hunger if I do not use the means of satisfying it : 
or to remain where I am, if I will not use the means 
of moving from the place. 

Thus far we have proceeded without embarrass- 
ment \ 



PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY. 



153 



ment ; nor has any principle been advanced, to 
which each opponent will not give his consent. 

Bat the questions now are, — What is that which 
operates upon the will ? and, Whence is it that its 
operations are never resisted ? 

In order to solve these questions, we must recol- 
lect what it was which has preceded the will. It wa^ 
a desire. What preceded the desire ? It was an 
inducement. What occasioned the inducement ? 
The love of some apparent good v/hich it seemed to 
contain. What was it which enstampt this character 
of good upon the desired object? It was its appa- 
rent adaptation^ in some way or other, to our well-- 
being. This series of questions leads us to the lorn 
of happiness ; the desire of enjoying our existence \ 
and we can go no further. Here we must stop ; 
and here we stop most willi'ngly; for we cannot stir 
from this spot, without plunging into unhappiness. 

Two indisputable maxims now present them- 
selves. We must desire happiness ; and we must, 
in order to obtain it, use the m.eans which promise 
success. 

Are all men obliged to use the sajne means ? No. 
Is the same man obliged to use the same means at 
all times ? Certainly not. A has very different con- 
ceptions of the nature of happiness, and of the means 
of promoting it, from B ; while C may differ from 
them both to-day, and from himself to-morrow. 

Thus, 



154 



POCTRINE OF 



Thus, then, are there two distinct principles of 
action. The one permanent, respecting the ob- 
ject ; the other mutable, respecting the means: The 
grand principle of all actions is the love of well- 
being. This is the motive of motives. It is the 
chief ; all others are subordinate. 

Other motives or inducements which have deter- 
mined to will, may possess the most opposite cha- 
racters, and be derived from opposite sources ; yet 
they may always be traced to that grand principle, 
the love of ivell-being : like the radii of a circle^ 
which, although they are placed in different or op- 
posite directions, point equally from the centre to 
the circumference, and from the circumference to 
the centre. Thus it is an immutable law, perma- 
nently operating in every percipient and every intel- 
ligent being, that he should delight in well-being ; 
that he shall seek after happiness. It is also a law, 
that he must employ means to obtain ends ; and 
that of consequence he must, if he be not insane, 
prefer the means which, at the time, seem to be best 
adapted to the object. 

But means are infinitely numerous, and infinitely 
various. There is a great variety of good things 
attainable by human beings, and these may be pur- 
sued in different ways. Our opinions, both of the 
nature of good, and the means of its attainment, 
are also extremely different. Hence it is that a 

circum- 



PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY. 155 



circumstance which operates upon one man as a 
powerful inducement, has no influence upon an- 
other ; and contingent circumstances may commu- 
nicate a power to one inducement to-day, which 
yesterday it did not possess ; and to-morrow may 
possibly present us with something still more in- 
fluential. 

Here then is a characteristic difference between 
the laws by which all animated beings are governed, 
and every law which is merely physical in its ope- 
rations. The physical laws are immutably the same, 
in all cases. There is no versatility in the subjects 
operated upon. In mathematics, mechanics, elec- 
tricity, the physical influence of cause and effect, 
upon inanimate and passive bodies, are invariably 
the same in their agency, and in their effects. But 
when living and susceptible beings are acted upon, 
a great diversity of effects, and even opposite effects, 
may be produced, by the same operative principle, 
according to the diversities in the state of the per- 
cipient. Human nature is- a species of panharmo- 
nicon, consisting of numerous instruments, different- 
ly constructed, and variously attuned ; and whose 
tones are drawn forth by the different modes cf 
playing upon them ; so that no one particular lav/ 
of tact, or of percussion, is applicable to them alL 

It has been observed in our Philosophical Treatise, 
that men, formed similar, and often with equal 

powers 



1.56 



DOCTIIINE OF 



powers of discrimination ; men in whom the sensa- 
tions of pleasure and pain, happiness and misery, are 
so similar, might be expected to possess a corre- 
spondent similarity in tlieir affections, instead of 
that diversity, which is so conspicuous., not only in 
different persons, but frecjuently in the same per- 
son, at different times'^." We have traced these 
causes to an extent which will not suffer quotation 
or abridgement. They are contingencies, in conse- 
quence of which the same class of perceptive, ra- * 
tional, intelligent beings, may become impressed 
and influenced by the same efficient causes, in a 
different manner, at different periods. These create 
differences and versatilities, which often ix)il conjec- 
ture, and render all calculations erroneous. 

Yet, amidst all these diversities, a concatenation^ 
an ximnterrupted concatenation, may be traced. An 
undisturbed series of cause and efl^ect prevails. The 
links indissolubly hang together. No human power 
can break through them. What is still more: — 
what renders the chain so indissolubly strong, is, that 
no human being can desire to break through them ; 
for his own desires, determinations, and executions, 
are component parts of the chain ; and no man can 
possibly change the purpose he is executing, at the 
very time that he wills to execute it. 

* See Part II. Ch. II. Causes which create a Diversity in our 
jiffections. 

Nor 



PHILOSOPHICAL N"ECESSXTY. 157 

Nor can the warmest advocate for the liberty of 
the vv iil deny the influence of incidental circum- 
stances upon this will. He must acknowledge that 
one m.an differs from another in the habitual bent 
of his mind, and in the whole train of his con- 
duct, in consequence of it. He must acknow- 
ledge, that a man placed in one situation, must 
think and act differently from a man who is placed 
in another. A person who is born, educated, and 
constantly habituated to England, must form very 
different conceptions of every thing around him, 
and must express these conceptions in very diffe- 
rent language, from the Frenchman or the Ger- 
man, who has always been resident in his own 
country. Nor will it be affirmed, that every man 
is at all times equally master of himself, of his 
ideas, propensities, and affections. To affirm that 
we must feel precisely the same in different moods, 
would be to affirm a contradiction ; because the 
difference of mood implies a difference of sensa- 
tion, propensity, and disposition. It must be al- 
lowed that we are perpetually exposed to adven- 
titious circumstances, which contain inducements, 
attract attention, excite inclinations and desires, and 
finally influence the will. The man vvho is affected 
by the darkness and gloom of solitude, cannot feel 
as if he enjoyed the exhilarations of cheerful so- 
ciety. The man who is intoxicated by strong liquors, 

cannot 



158 DOCTElisrE OF 

cannot have the same thoughts and sensations which 
he possessed in a state of sobriety. He who ha^ 
been habituated to every species of depravity, can- 
not, in an instant, entertain the sentiments and dis- 
positions which are famihar to the man of sublime 
virtue and piety. No clown can on a sudden as- 
sume the manners of a polished gentleman. What- 
ever may be the character and dispositions of the 
advocate for liberty, let him try the experiment 
upon himself, and instantaneously change his own 
propensities and habits, into the directly opposite. 
If he succeeds, he triumphs ; if he fails, he is con- 
futed* He admtis all the facts for which the Neces^ 
sarians contend, though he should continue to re- 
wlt against their language. 

The following are the links which compose the 
chain ; and we will ask the most strenuous advo- 
cate for the freedom of the will, against which of 
the links he will direct his objections ? — To desire 
happiness is natural and inevitable ; — means must 
be employed to obtain the object the means of 
happiness are various. — Opinions respecting them 
may be various ; — our own opinions may be changed 
by circumstances ; — these circumstances are not al- 
ways under our own -control ; — our dispositions 
vary Avith our opinions ; — whatever we pursue ap- 
pears, at the time, to be calculated to produce some 
kind or degree of good as such it excites desires ; 

—■and 



PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY. 159 

— and these desires will produce a determination to 
act in some particular manner, if no impediment 
should intervene ; — this impediment may be com- 
pulsive, and we cannot resist it : or — it may pre- 
sent other inducements exciting other desires, di- 
recting to other m.eans, and to another mode of 
conduct ! 

Thus does the doctiine of Necessity give its op- 
ponent full liberty to gratify himself, in every thing 
that he does ; — and what can he desire more ? 

When the advocates for absolute fi-eedom feel 
alarmed, concerning the immoral tendency of this 
doctrine, it proceeds from very partial views of it. 
The concatenation must be preserved entire ; and this 
w ill secure a consistence in conduct. If one event 
be necessary, another must be equally so. There 
are consequences which inevitably follow^ a parti- 
cular line of conduct, as there are causes inevitably 
producing it. If a man commit a bad action, he 
may be obliged to repent of it, with deep anguish 
of mind. Circumstances may necessarily lead to 
detection, prosecution, conviction, and punishment. 
Should the malefactor enter a protest against the 
sentence of condemnation, from the plea of neces- 
sity, may not a similar plea be urged in favour of 
the prosecution, and of all its consequences ? It 
may be asked, Will he scrupulously refuse rewards 

for 



160 



DOCTRINE OF 



for his meritorious actions, from the plea of compul* 
sive necessity to perform them ? If not, will he 
be so unjust as to lay all the blame of his nefarious 
deeds upon necessity, and take the honour of every 
thing praise-worthy to himself ? 

Although it be asserted, that according to these 
laws of concatenation, not an event can arrive, nor 
can an action be performed, which is not to be ascri- 
bed to a series of preceding causes and effects ; yet 
we are to recollect that the will of man is not only 
one of the links, but it is a link of peculiar energy 
and importance ; and it often takes the lead, in a 
manner which is more than an equivalent for the 
apparent disgrace of submission. If it be the effect 
of preceding circumstances, it is, in its turn, a came 
of numberless other effects. It introduces and con- 
ducts the most important events. It erects, esta- 
blishes, and destroys empires. If it be the parent 
of vice, it is also the parent of virtue. It is this 
which subdues vice, arrests its pernicious conse- 
quences, directs to right conduct, and fosters all the 
principles of religion and morality. It is the will 
of man which turns a wilderness into a gaYden, 
and renders deserts fruitful. It cultivates all the 
sciences, and introduces every useful art. It is in- 
cessantly working its way through difficulties innu- 
merable, and perfecting itself in its progress*. 

^ * See Note L. 

Neces- 



PHILOSOFHIGAL NECESSITY. l6l 

Necessarians suppose, that if they can vindicate 
the terms necessary, necessity, &c. when applied to 
human actions, they estabHsh the truth of their 
doctrine ; and this may be the case with those who 
clearly understand the argument : but were they 
more explicit, they might gain more proselytes. The 
word necessity can scarcely be pronounced without 
suggesting the idea of an irresistibility, which 
fetters the will, and acts in opposition to it. The 
word naturally suggests the idea of a physical im- 
pulse ; and this is supposed to imply the mere me- 
chanism of a moral agent. It is therefore of the 
utmost moment to distinguish between things which, 
although they may agree in some respects, dififer 
very materially in others. An instrument is a ge- 
neric term, and some instrument must be used to 
execute a particular purpose ; but it may differ ma- 
terially whether it be a saiv or a hammer. If the 
impulsive force of a hammer be required, hammers 
of different sizes, weight, and momentum, will not 
produce the desired effect equally well. But there 
is not a greater difference between these, than there 
is in the different senses applicable to the word ne- 
cessity, in the controversy before us ; nor should we 
be more careful to distinguish between instruments 
possessed of different degrees and kinds of power. 
Since the difference between the necessity obvious 
in human actions and physical impulse is so strongly 

M marked, 



162 



DOlDTRIiSIE OF 



marked, it ought never to be oveiiooked. The one 
conveys the idea of compulsion every time it is used, 
the other rejects it. The one influences the Will, 
the other directly opposes it. The will was in- 
fluenced by inducements presenting themselves to 
the judgement, the imagination, or the passions ; 
the other has not the most distant relation to mind^ 
The moral agent feels that he has a power over the 
inducement ; ovev physical necessity he has no power 
whatever. Inducements act variously, and in man- 
ners the most opposite, upon different agents, and 
upon the same agent at different times. Physical 
agency acts uniformly : a saw uniformly cuts wood, 
and a hammer drives nails, &c. The wind impels 
a whole fleet of ships, large or small, in a similar 
direction. While it continues to blow from the same 
quarter, it will not impel a vessel towards the east 
to-day, and to-morrow towards the west. But these 
apparent caprices are familiar to human agency. 

Another cause of embarrassment, and of misap- 
prehension, is, that in this controversy the princi- 
pal, if not the whole, attention is directed to the cause 
immediately productive of the act of volition. The 
favourite argument upon which the great sti*ess is 
laid is, the strongest motive must prevail : and such 
an impetus is given to this motive, that it seems to 
prevail, in opposition to that very Will which is de^ 
termined to yield to it. For in this point of view 



MIIOSOPHICAL K-ECESSITY. 1 63 

IS it always considered by the opponent. Wliereas 
moral necessity runs through the whole chain of 
cause and effect. It is applicable to all those cir- 
cumstances, which are essential to every act of vo- 
lition, and to the whole train of circumstances pre- 
ceding. Consequently the opponent is not to attack 
a particular fortress ; he is to break through a chain : 
and let him search for a link in the chain, which shall 
be weak enough to yield to his objections. 

Again, it is obvious that the argument respecting 
the responsibility of man, which is involved in the 
debate, communicates the greatest importance to 
it ; and this has imperceptibly confined it to morcd 
conduct almost exclusively ; whereas the subject it- 
self belongs to every act of human agency ; to the 
most frivolous, as well as to the most important ; 
and to a thousand actions in which moral responsi- 
bility has no concern. It is the universal law of 
nature, that man shall pursue good : it is equally a 
law, that he shall pursue it in different ways, accord- 
ing to the ideas formed of the particular good, and 
the adaptation of the means : but in these laws the 
idea of necessity cannot be attached to one act more 
than to another, notwithstanding its moral character 
or superior importance. The whole doctrine re- 
solves itself into a few simple axioms such as, 
man will be happy if he can ; whatever communi- 
cates happiness must be the cause of it j efficacious 

M 9, means 



164 



DOCTRINE or 



means have finally obtained the end ; and we shall 
use the means which we deem productive of the 
ends ardently desired, if we be not prevented by a 
powei* over which we have no controul. These are 
very evident propositions, but they are not exclu- 
sively applicable to morals. They are common to 
every incident in life; and consequently they belong 
to the general inquiry — whether every sublunary 
event be not the inevitable result of a preordained 
concatenation of cause and effect ? I am as much 
a Necessarian when I am resolved to mend my pen, 
and am obliged to make use of a penknife, or to 
extend my legs when I am determined to take a 
walk, as when I perform a moral or an immoral 
action ; and I am as free to follow my inclinations, 
when I perform a virtuous action, or commit a vi- 
cious one, as I am, when I go to the East or West 
Indies, according to the determinations of my will. 

If the term be not peculiarly applicable to moral 
agency, to be so peculiarly tenacious of it, in that 
connexion, and particularly without a due explana- 
nation, is embarrassing and injurious. Instead of 
conveying clear ideas, it obscures those which are 
clear. It has a tendency to confound two things 
which differ essentially. It places mechanical or 
physical agency, over which the will may not have 
any power, upon the same line with moral agency, 
where the agent feds that he has a xvill in the 

action * 



PIHLOSOPHICAL NECESSITY. l65 

action ; and it leads the opponent, or the libertine, 

into conclusions which are erroneous or immoral. i 

The phrase which is sometimes u*sed to distin- 
guish the necessity for which it is contended, from 
the others, is in itself an acknowledgement that 
there is a difference ; but it does not state in what 
the difference specifically consists. It is termed phi* 
losophical necessity. If philosophical were thought 
to be the same as physical necessity, the epithet 
would not have been prefixed. But this phrase is 
not expHcit or peculiarly appropriate. Strictly 
speaking, physical necessity is as philosophical as 
the other ; although the moral philosopher claims 
an exclusive right to it, without informing us on 
what this claim is founded. Should he allege that 
moral conduct is of a superior character to physical 
impulse, and deserves an honourable distinction, the 
answer is, that this superiority consists in the pos- 
session of a will, and a power to act according to 
this will. It is this prerogative which characterizes 
human agency ; constitutes the excellency, dignity, 
and importance of moral conduct, and ought to 
place it at a due distance from a word which insi- 
nuates the reverse, every time it is uttered. 

Will it not appear, from the above investigations, 
that the debate is more about the terms to be em- 
ployed, and the manner of their application, than 
essential differences in the subject itself ? If the 

Neces- 



166 



DOCTRINE or 



Necessarian will not be so very tenacious of the 
words must, cannot act otherways, &c. &c. when 
he speaks of any particular or specific act of the 
will, the advocate for free agency will be disposed 
to admit the grand principle, that no man has ever 
acted without a motive ; that the strongest induce- 
ment became the motive ; that it became the 
strongest at the time, by appearing to be most 
adapted to his purpose ; that this purpose consisted 
in the possession of some good. He will acknow- 
ledge that no man can desire greater freedom, than 
that of following his own inclinations. 

This kind of phraseology expresses truths intel- 
ligible to all, and to which all will give their assent. 
It must, therefore, be preferable to those modes of 
expression which suggest the revolting idea of com^ 
pulsion, every time they are uttered"^. 

Nor are the designs of the Necessarian so well 
answered by the pertinacious and partial use of the 
favourite expression. It is the professed object to 
enforce the doctrine of an extensive and invariable 
concatenation. But as the human Will forms so im- 
portant a link in the chain, it ought to be perpetually 
noticed and respected ; and its powers of choice 
should be carefully distinguished from every species 
of physical agency. 

To assure a man whom we wish to convince of 

* See Note M. 

some 



PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY. 16? 

some gross impropriety in his conduct, that, situ- 
ated as he ^vas, he could not possibly have acted 
otherways, cannot promise success, equal to the re- 
monstrance which proves that his will was depraved, 
and his motive vicious ; that, although he possesses 
the invaluable privilege of following his own incli- 
nations, unless he make a more prudent choice re- 
specting object and means, his inclinations will most 
certainly conduct him to shame and miseiy. This 
statement may teach him to respect his moral powers; 
may alarm his fears, and thus may dispose him to re- 
form. The statement itself may become the causa 
movens of his future sood behaviour. Were a drunk- 
ard to be told that he could not possibly avoid par- 
ticular acts of intoxication, he would interpret the 
information into an apology for his excesses. But 
warn him that if he habitually loses his reason, and 
inflames his passions, he cannot possibly retain a 
good character ; that he may ruin his fortune ; and 
that he inevitably places himself in imminent danger 
of doing and suffering evils, which may embitter all 
his future days; you extend the doctrine to the ne- 
cessary consequences of his conduct, instead of con- 
liniuff it to the act itself. You thus place before him 
inducements which may dispose him to reform ; and 
the doctrine may establish its reputation, by demon- 
strating its moral tendency. 

It has been objected that this concatenation leads 

to 



168 



DOCTRINE OF 



to all the horrors of fatalism. In the mind of an 
atheist it may ; with the consistent theist there is 
little danger ; with the pious christian it is impos- 
sible. If the concatenation be ordained of God, 
he will preserve every link entire ; in its energies 
and in its uses. However numerous the links, or 
extensive the chain, they are all parts of a whole-; 
constructed by infinite Wisdom, for purposes infi- 
nitely benignant. A section of it alone may ap- 
pear above our horizon, like the rainbow in the 
clouds, but it is easy for the imagination to follow 
it beyond its visible appearance. God knows its 
inttgrity. He knows the kind and degree of in- 
fluence which every ordained power is capable of 
exerting upon the human n)ind ; and he can direct 
it for good, when he pleases, and as he pleases. He 
can make che vices of men subservient to the cause 
of virtue, and temporary misery productive of the 
most durable blessings. Should the wicked main- 
tain that they cannot avoid doing evil, it may be 
maintained, in answer, that their punishment is 
equally inevitable. The more obdurate your heart, 
the severer will be the chastisement ; nor can you 
possibly escape any other way than by i^epentance 
and reformation^. 

Whoever asserts that our doctrine leads to the 
horrors of fatalism, takes a very imperfect view of 

* See Note N. 

the 



PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY-. ]69 

the subject. The imagination may easily extend 
the chain, until it shall arrive at all that is great and 
good. Human beings have incessantly acted upon 
the grand principle of seeking happiness, although 
they have so frequently and so egregiously mistaken 
their way. But this is no proof that they will al- 
^I'ays mistake their w^ay. We daily perceive that 
a conviction of error leads to future caution. l<y- 

o 

norance corrects itself, by our experience of the 
evils it produces ; and experience becomes the most 
impressive instructor. Mankind must at last form 
more consistent ideas of the nature of good, and 
obtain a more accurate knowledge of the ways and 
means to secure it, or they will continue eternal 
idiots. In every step they take, they are uniformly 
acting according to the laws of cause and effect ; 
and although they continue to follow their own ii> 
clinations, in every act they perform, these inclina- 
tions may finally conduct them right. Repeated 
experience must finally correct the grossest igno- 
rance ; and repeated evils suffered in one course, 
will compel them to pursue another; until they 
shall finally have obtained wisdom to make a choice 
of virtue and religion as the supreme good. This 
life may be much too short for the purpose ; but 
the human race have an eternity before them. In 
a future state, similar principles may operate in a 
similar manner, until the whole intellectual creation 

shall 



1 70 DOCTRINE or PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY. 



shall become reclaimed and happy. Whoever has 
an existence, must inevitably desire his own happi- 
ness, wherever he exists, and as long as he exists ; 
and he will pursue it by every method in his power : 
and as, wherever he may be, he will continue under 
the inspection of the universal Father, whose wisdom 
is equal to his power, and whose goodness is equal 
to both, the continued and extended operation of 
cause and effect, may lead to an ultimatum devoutly 
to be wished, imimrsal Happiness. 

Should it be alleged by the fatalist, that this is 
merely conjecture, and that we are too ignorant of 
futurity to predicate so glorious an issue ; the an- 
swer is, that this acknowledged ignorance of futu- 
rity renders his objection impotent. For the mere 
possibility of a different train of events from that 
apprehended by the fatalist^ confutes the doctrine 
of fatalism. Let him only admit that the inevitable 
result of cause and effect may be universal happi- 
ness, and he will not complain of inexorable 
fate. 



SPECULATION V. 



IS HUMAN NATURE ENDOWED WITH A 
COMMON SENSE, DESTINED TO BE THE 
CRITERION OF TRUTH ; AND MORE IN- 
FALLIBLE, IN ANY CASE, RESPECTING 
ITS DECISIONS, THAN THE DEDUC- 
TIONS OF REASON ? 



17 S 



SPECULATION V. 

IS HUMAN ISTATUUE ENDOWED WITH A COMMON 
SENSE, DESTINED TO BE THE CRITERION OF 
TRUTH ; AND MORE INFALLIBLE, IN ANY 
CASE, RESPECTING ITS DECISIONS, THAN THE 
DEDUCTIONS OF REASON ? 

Previous to the days of Mr. Locke, the doctrine 
of mnate ideas was prevalent in the philosophic 
world. This he attacked with vigour and success. 
He ascribed the origin of all our ideas to the im- 
pressions made upon the mind, by external objects, 
through the medium of the senses. He maintained 
that perceptions were thus formed, on which the 
intellectual powers are able to exercise themselves? 
until they arrive at abstractions, so remote that they 
sometimes lose sight of their origin. Thus he ascribes 
the whole of thought and of knowledge to sensation 
^nd reflection. The doctrine of Mr. Locke presup- 
poses the existence of matter, the properties of 
which, striking the senses, raise ideas in the mind. 
He defines an idea to be ^'whatever is the object 
of the understanding when a man thinks." 

The theory of Mr. Locke divides the qualities of 
bodies into primary and secondary. The first iie 

considers 



174 



DOCTRIISrE Of 



considers as immutable, the others various. Under 
the first he classes solidity, extension, figure, mo- 
bility ; these are, with him, essential to the exist- 
ence of matter, whether they be perceived or not. 
The secondary, as colour, taste, sound, &c. respect 
the effects which peculiar properties of bodies may 
have upon us, without being inherent in the bodies 
themselves. Thus flame is said to be hot, snow to 
be white and cold, &c. because they make these 
kinds of impression, or excite these ideas in the 
minds of sentient beings. The influence of bodies 
upon each other, and upon sentient, percipient 
beings, suggests also the idea of Power. There- 
fore, according to his system, primary qualities are 
essential to existence ; the secondary produce ef* 
fects in us, without being inherent in the bodies ; 
Powers change the relations and properties of bo- 
dies, and likewise produce sensible effects in us. 

Bishop Berkley, dissatisfied with the philosophy 
that vindicates the existence of a material world, 
and the arguments in support of it, combats the 
distinction between primary and secondary quali- 
ties, which constitute the bulwark of Locke's sy- 
stem : he places every supposed quality upon the 
common basis of perception ; and strenuously main- 
tains that nothing exists but what is perceived by 
the mind. Perceptmi is, with him, synonymous 
with existence. He asserts that there is no real 

existence 



COMMOI^ SENSE. 175 

existence but Spirit ; that the various ideas impress- 
ed upon Spirit, respecting natures, properties, rela- 
tions, connexions, influence, constitute all we know, 
and all that is necessary to be known ; and that 
these are impressed by the great, universal, ever ac- 
tive Spirit upon minds, — without that useless inter- 
mediate called matter, ^ — according to immutable 
laws of his own appointment. 

The Bishop's solicitude to annihilate matter arose 
from a laudable motive. He attributed atheism en- 
tirely to the notion of existing matter. He perceived, 
that the ascription of certain powers and properties 
to matter itself, gradually introduced into the minds 
of philosophers, a persuasion that the agency of an 
intelligent cause was unnecessary ; and that these 
inherent powers were sufficient for all the phanno- 
mena observable in creation. He concluded, there- 
fore, that a triumph over the material system must 
be an effectual triumph over atheism. 

In this, however, he was mistaken ; for Mr. Hume 
has built his speculative system, which is as atheisti- 
cal in its appearance and tendencies as any work 
extant, chiefly upon the principles advanced by the 
pious Bishop. He admits of impressions and ideaSy 
but he professes to reject every thing external. He 
maintains that if we can ascribe our ideas of the 
existence of matter to impressions which are not 
derived from matter, we may as well suppose that 

our 



176* 



DOCTllINE OF 



our ideas of spirit do not originate from the real 
existence of an external mind. If all the ideas which 
are vulgarly ascribed to matter be seated in the 
mind of the percipient^ this may also be the case 
with the ideas of spirit also ; and consequently no- 
thing remains but ideas and impressions. Matter, 
spirit, the world, its inhabitants, beings supposed to 
be invisible, beings supposed to be visible, and all 
correspondent offices, influences, expectations, &c. 
may be self-created phantoms. 

This hypothesis is supported by Mr. Hume with 
much art and ingenuity ; and his deductions from 
the theory of Mr. Locke, respecting secondary qua- 
lities, in connexion with the leading principles of 
the Bishop, appear unanswerable to many of his 
readers, according to the rules of legitimate reason- 
ing ; although it is acknowledged that they under- 
mine the foundations of religion and morality. His 
principles, therefore, have excited much alarm in 
the christian world ; and the christian philosophers 
of the North, being strongly disposed to admit some 
of the principles of Mr. Hume, while they reject 
the natural inferences from them with horror, de- 
spair of confuting his dangerous hypothesis in any 
other way, than by cutting the Gordian knot; by de- 
nying boldly to reason the power of judging, in vari- 
ous cases of a moral and metaphysical nature. They 
call in the aid of another principle, distinct from 

reason, 



COMMON SENSE. 177 

reason, whose decisions are supposed to be infallible ; 
and to which we ought to submit, in opposition to 
its dictates. This principle is common Sense. What- 
ever contradicts common sense must be false, how- 
ever speciously it may be supported by argumen- 
tation. 

Among the abettors of this tenet, Dr. Beattie is 
the most popular. The writings of his precursor. 
Dr. Reid, are too philosophical for the public in 
general ; and the declamatory insulting style of Dr. 
Oswall, has met with general disapprobation. 

Dr. Beattie's Essai/ on Truth has been read with 
great eagerness. It has been honoured with the 
warm approbation of many among our learned and 
pious divines ; and a very recent edition of it evinces 
that he continues to have numerous admirers. The 
author has been hailed ^s a second David, who 
dared to combat the mighty Philistine with a weapon 
apparently inadequate, but which he has wielded 
with so much address as to render him triumphant 
over the antagonist*. 

The horror in which Mr. Hume's principles were 
held, and the subtilty with which he supported them ; 
the reputation of our moral philosopher, as a man 
of science and literature ; the eloquence of his lan- 
guage ; the justness of some of his observations, and 
* See Note O. . 

N the 



178 



BOCTRIlSrE OF 



the vivacity of most, — have united to render this 
work peculiarly acceptable and popular. 

The popularity of the work renders it peculiarly 
necessary to scrutinize its leading principles. If 
they be founded upon a solid basis, they cannot be 
shaken ; if they be essentially erroneous, they must 
he inimical to that truth which he so ardently de- 
sires to establish. 

The doctrine of ^ common Sense, as the criterion 
of truth, has a degree of affinity with that of a 
7noral Sense, which has been examined in a prece- 
ding Speculation ; but it differs in some important 
particulars. The moral sense is confined to morals: 
it refers to the disposition instantaneously awakened 
to pursue virtue and shun vice, and to quick appro- 
bation and disapprobation, according to the appa- 
rent merit or demerit of an act, or of its agent. It 
is therefore considered as an auxiliary to reason ; 
approving or censuring dispositions and conduct^ 
and exciting to action more speedily than the slow 
deductions of reason will admit; but with wdiich 
reason always concurs. The doctrine of a common 
sense proposes a principle not only distinct from 
reason, but as superior to it in the accuracy of its 
decisions. By this we are authorized to reject pro- 
positions which reason cannot refute ; so that when- 
ever the two principles are at variance, it is the pro- 
vince 



COMMON SENSE. 179 

vince of reason to submit. This doctrine, therefore, 
is more important in its nature, and more extensive 
in its application. The moral sense is simply a sti- 
mulus to virtuous actions ; this is proposed as a 
more certain security against pernicious errors than 
the light of reason itself ; confirming our belief in 
those truths, from which, were we to trust to our 
reason, we might be induced to deviate. 

The subject is of peculiar importance, as it is en- 
tirely of a practical nature. The questions, whether 
benevolent actions are the result of a refined self- 
interest, and whether man be endowed with a moral 
Sense, instinctively discriminating between the merits 
and demerits of particular actions, are comparatively 
frivolous ; for, in whatever way the questions may 
be resolved, we shall continue to act as usual, in 
the very cases to which they relate. But when tests 
of truth, so essentially different, are submitted to 
our consideration, a wrong decision is not merely a 
speculative error ; it becomes a false guide. Should 
Doctor Beattie s sentiments be well founded, we are 
commanded to discard, upon certain occasions, what 
has hitherto been considered as our best friend, and 
are advised to throw ourselves into the arms of a 
stranger. Should they be false, this stranger will 
prove an enemy. Could they be established, they 
would be most humiliating to rational beings. We 
should be compelled to admit, that opinions w^hich 

N 2 insult 



180 DOCTRIlSrE OF , 

insult common sense are honoured by the support 
of rationality ; and that reason must be degraded, 
before we can arrive at truth. 

Induced by these considerations, without beifig 
in the least disposed to support the hypothesis of 
Mr. Hume, we shall attempt to show, that the Pro- 
lessor's leading principles are totally inadmissible ; 
that his arguments are fallacious in the extreme ; 
and that the favourite doctrine is of a very dangerous 
tendency. 

The celebrated Essay, on some parts of which we 
are about to comment, is not written in a manner 
that is best adapted for cool and impartial investi- 
gation. It is unpardonably diffuse and declama- 
tory. We are inundated with quotations and re- 
ferences to different authors, ancient and modern, 
which display much reading, it is acknowledged, 
but which answer no other purpose than to divert 
the attention from the main object, and from that 
close and accurate investigation, which is the se- 
curest road to truth ; and the arguments by which 
an attempt is made to support his hypothesis, either 
lose their strength, or hide their weakness, under 
an immense mass of heterogeneous matter. 

As it will be impossible to travel with the Pro- 
fessor over the whole of this desultory performance, 
and to oppose the multitudinous errors which per- 
vade the whole, we must content ourselves with se- 
lecting 



COMMOIS' SENSB, 



181 



lecting such passages as contain the essence of his 
doctrine, and of the arguments advanced in support 
of it; and, to prevent misrepresentation, we shall 
transcribe the Professor's language. 

Before 1 enter upon this work, I must express 
the unfeio-ned reluctance with which I engage in it. 
I greatly respect the exalted character of Dr. Beattie, 
as a man of exemplary virtue and piety, justly ad- 
mired for his elegant taste and extensive literature ; 
which he has invariably employed with great ardour 
of mind, in a manner which he thought subservient 
to the cause of religion and morals ; and I cheer- 
fully acknowledge, that I have been instructed and 
amused most agreeably, by various parts of this ex- 
tensive and miscellaneous treatise. The vivacity 
which pervades the whole, the numerous literary 
anecdotes, and the justness of many of his remarks, 
render the perusal of it a treat to every man of lite- 
rary taste. But such excellencies, in the connexion 
in which they are placed, are dangerous seductions. 
It is to be lamented that a person who could rea- 
son so well in many parts, should be so confused, 
inconsistent, and unsatisfactory in others ; and that 
he who could penetrate so deeply into other subjects, 
should not be able to penetrate into the absurdities 
of his favourite tenet. 

I think that the strictures upon this celebrated 
performance, which are submitted to the attention 

of 



182 



DOCTRINE OF 



of his admirers, will evince the danger of being cap^ 
tivated by manner , in subjects of momentous in- 
quiry, in place of directing the chief attention to 
the solidity of argument ; and may remove impedi- 
ments to the progress of science which such enchant- 
ing but desultory dissertations, such unintelligible 
and undefined language, must throw in the way. 
Pleasant writing and the earnest pursuit of pljiloso- 
phical and moral truths, being very different in 
themselves, require different operations of mind. A 
thought being well expressed is no proof that it is a 
just thought. Nor is sarcastic language the test of 
truth ; for it may be made a substitute for argu- 
ment upon each side of a question. 

I can assure the. reader, that, notwithstanding the 
strength of some of my expressions, which a posi- 
tive vaunting tone, too prevalent with the philoso- 
phers of this school, may have occasionally pro- 
voked, I enter the lists with a mildness of temper, 
at least equal to that manifested by the civilised 
pugilists of modern days, — which, however, does not 
prevent them from giving as hard blows as possible; 
— and, to carry on the allusion, should any champion 
among the Doctor's friends step forwards, and at- 
tack njy arguments with success, I shall quit the 
field to the conqueror, and bear the defeat with 
patience. 

Our extracts will be taken from Part I. of this 

Essay. 



COMMON SENSE, 183 

Essay. The other two Parts are devoted to the 
elucidation of his doctrine, and the answering of 
objections ; and we must leave it to our readers to 
decide, after the perusal of our remarks, whether 
his elucidation throvvs any additional light upon the 
subject, and whether his answers be not evasive and 
unsatisfactory ^. 

" Chap. I. 

" Of perception of Truth In general. 

I. " Truth seems to be considered by all man- 
kind as something fixed, unchangeable, and eternal." 
—Page 21. 

" It is difficult, perhaps impossible, to give a de- 
finition of truth." — Page 22. 

As a substitute for a definition, the Doctor gives 
us the following truths as the basis of his obser- 
vations. 

" On hearing these propositions, — I exist, — things 
equal to one and the same thing are equal to one 
another, — the sun rose to-day, — there is a God, — 
ingratitude ought to be blamed and punished,— the 
three angles of a triangle are equal to two right 
angles, &c. — I am conscious that my mind admits 
and acquiesces in them. I say, that I believe them 
to be true ; that is, 1 conceive them to express 
something conformable to the nature of things." 

* The extracts are made from the edition of 1812. 

"If 



184 DOCTRINE OF 

" If I be asked what I mean by the nature of 
things, I cannot other ways explain myself, than by 
saying, that there is in my mind something which 
induces me to think^ that every thing existing in na- 
ture is determined to exist, and to exist after a cer^ 
tain manner, in consequence of established laws ; 
and whatever is agreeable to those laws is agreeable 
to the nature of things, because by those laws the 
nature of all things is determined. Of those laws 
I do not pretend to know any thing, except so far 
as they seem to be intimated to me by my own 
feelings, and by the suggestions of my own under- 
standing. But these feelings and suggestions are 
such, and affect me in such a manner, that I can- 
not help receiving them and trusting in them, and 
believing that their intimations are not fallacious," 
&c. — Pages ^2—24. 

The above sentiments are further stated in the 
following; manner : 

II. " I account that to be a truth which the 
constitution of our nature determines us to believe, 
and that to be falsehood which the constitution of 
our nature determines us to disbelieve. Believing 
and disbelieving are simple acts of the mind ; I can 
neither define nor describe them in words, therefore 
the reader must judge of their nature by his own 
experience. We often believe what we afterwards 
find to be false ; but while belief continues, we 

think 



COMMON SENSE. 



18.5 



think it true ; when we discover its falsity, we be- 
lieve it no longer." — Page 24. 

III. " Truths are of different kinds : some are 
certain, others only probable ; — and we ought not 
to call that act of the inind Avhich attends the per- 
ception of certainty, and that which attends the per- 
ception of probability, by one and the same name; 
some have called the former conviction^ and the 
latter assent. All convictions are equally strong ; 
but assent admits of innumerable decrees," &c. — - 
Page 25. 

" We may, without absurdity, speak of probable 
truth, as well as of certain truth. Whatever a ra- 
tional being is determined by the constitution of his 
nature to admit, as probable, may be called a pro- 
bable truth'' He proposes in his Inquiries chiefly 
to confine himself to that kind of truth, which 
may be called certain, which enforces conviction^ — - 
page 25. 

IV. " The investigation and perception of truth 
is commonly ascribed to our rational faculties : — - 
but certain truths are not all of the same kind, some 
being supported by one kind of evidence, and others 
by another." — " The certainty of some truths is 
perceived intuitively ; the certainty of some others 
is perceived not intuitively, but in consequence of 
a proof." He observes that "some philosophers of 
note have given the name of common Sense to that 

faculty 



186 



DOCTRINE OF 



faculty by which we perceive self-evident truth ;" 
and this he adopts, — page 9.6, 27. 

V. After stating the different senses in which the 
word reason is used ; he very properly selects that 
to which it is applied in the course of his inquiries. 

" Reason is used by those most accurate in di- 
stinguishing, to signify that power of the mind by 
which we draw inferences, or by which w^e are con- 
vinced, that a relation belongs to two ideas, on ac- 
count of our having found, that these ideas bear 
certain relations to other ideas. It is that faculty, 
vrhich enables us, from relations and ideas that are 
known, to investigate such as are unknown ; and 
without which we never could proceed in the dis- 
covery of truth a single step beyond first principles 
or intuitive axioms. It is in this sense we are to 
use the word reason in the course of our Inquiry." — 
Page 31. 

W. He observes also that the word common 
Sense has various signhications. He adopts that 
" used by some philosophers to signify that power 
of the mind which perceives a truth, or commands 
belief not by progressive argumentation, but by 
an instantaneous and instinctive impulse; derived 
neither from education, nor from habit, but from 
nature; acting independently on our will, when- 
ever its object is presented, according to an esta- 
blished law, and therefore not improperly called 

Sense ; 



COMMON SENSE. 1 87 

iSense ; and acting in a similar manner upon all 
mankinc], and therefore properly called common 
Sensed He acknowledges, however, that every com- 
mon opinion ought not to be referred to common 
sense. Modes in dress, religion, and conversation, 
however absurd in themselves, may suit the notions 
or the taste of a particular people ; but none of us 
will say, that it is agreeable to common sense to 
worship more Gods than one ; to believe that one 
and the same body mtiy be in ten^thousand diffe- 
rent places at the same time." — Page 33, 34. 

VII. " That there is an essential difference be- 
tw^een these two faculties ; that common sense can- 
not be accounted for, by being called the perfec- 
tion of reason^ nor reason by being resolved into 
common sense, will perhaps appear from the fol- 
lowing remarks:—]. We are conscious, from in- 
ternal feeling, that the energy of the understandin^y 
which perceives intuitive truth, is different from that 
other energy which unites a conclusion with a first 
principle, by a gradual chain of intermediate rela- 
tions. We believe the truth of an investigated con- 
clusion, because we can assign a reason for our be- 
lief : we believe an intuitive principle, without being 
able to assign any other reason but this, that we 
know it to be true ; or that the law of our nature, 
or the constitution of the human understanding, de- 
termines us to believe it. ^. We cannot discern 

any 



IBS 



BOCIKINE OF 



any necessary cannection between reason and com- 
mon sense ; they are indeed generally connected ; 
bat we can conceive a being endowed with the one, 
who is destitute of the other. Nay, we often find 
that this is in fact the case. In dreams we sometimes 
reason without common sense. Through a defect 
of common sense, we adopt absurd principles ; but 
supposing our principles true, our reasoning is often 
unexceptionable. The same thing may be observed 
in certain kinds of madness. A man who believes 
himself made of glass, shall yet reason very justly 
concerning the means of preserving his supposed 
brittleness from flaws and fractures." — Page 35. 

VIIL It is strange to observe with Avhat re- 
luctance some people acknowledge the po\A er of in- 
stinct. That man is governed by reason, and brutes 
by instinct, is a favourite topic with certain philo- 
sophers ; who, like other frow ard children, spurn 
the hand that leads them, and desire above all 
things to be left at their own (Usposal. Were this 
boast founded in truth, it might be supposed to 
mean little more than that man is governed by him- 
self, and the brutes by their maker. But, luckily 
for man, it is not founded in truth, but in ignorance 
and inattention. Our instinct, as well as our ra- 
tional powers, are for superior, both in number 
and in dignity, to those which the brutes enjoy." — 
Page 37. 

IX. lie 



COMMON SENSE. 1 89 

IX. He acknowledges that reason is in itself a 
noble faculty; and that in the science of body glo- 
rious discoveries have been made by the right use 
of reason : but in some other subjects it seems that 

men ai'e to be satisfied to take things as they find 
them : when they believe nature upon her bare de- 
claration, without suspecting her of any design to 
impose upon them ; when their utmost ambition is 
to be her servants and interpreters ; then, and not 
till then, will philosophy prosper/' — Page 38. 

X. " Nature speaks to us by our external, as 
well as by our internal senses. It is strange that 
we should believe her in one case and not in an- 
other ; it is most strange that, supposing her falla- 
cious, we should think ourselves capable of detect- 
ing the cheat. Common sense tells me that the 
ground on which I stand is hard, material, and 
solid, and has a real separate independent exist- 
ence. Bej'kley and Hume tell me that I am im^ 
posed upon in this matter; for that the ground under 
my feet is really an idea in my mind, and that its 
very essence consists in being perceived."— Page 38, 
&c. " Now, if my common sense be mistaken, who 
shall ascertain or correct the mistake ? Our reason, 
it is said. Are then the inferences of reason in this 
instance clearer, and more decisive, than the dictates 
of common sense ? By no means ; I must trust to 

my 



190 



Doctrine oi' 



my common sense, as before ; and I feel that 1 
must do so." — Page 38. 

XI. " It has been said that every inquiry in phi- 
losophy ought to begin with a doubt; that nothing 
is to be taken for granted, and nothing believed 
without proof *'. If this be admitted, it must be 
admitted that reason is the ultimate judge of truth, 
to which common sense must continually act in sub- 
ordination. But this I cannot admit, because I am 
able to prove the contrary by incontestable evidence. 
I am able to prove, that, except v/e believe many 
things without proof, we never can believe any thing 
at all: and that all sound reasoninc^ must ultimately 
rest on the principles of common sense, that is, on 
principles intuitively certain, or intuitively proba- 
ble ; and consequently, that common sense is the 
ultimate judge of truth, to which reason mAist con- 
tinually act in subordination." — Page 40. 

The above extracts give as clear an idea of the 
Doctor's hypothesis as diversified expressions and 
undefined terms will admit. We shall now proceed 
to our 

Observations. 
We cannot enter upon this office without express- 
ing our surprise at the boldness of the attempt avow- 
ed in this celebrated Essay. It is no less than to em- 

* See Note P. 

ploy 



COMMON SENSE. 1.91 

ploy reason to weaken her own influence ; to make 
Jher prove that, upon subjects where she is the most 
wanted, she is a dangerous guide. It is confessed 
that in the science of bodies reason has made some 
glorious discoveries ; but we are advised in the sci- 
ence of the mind to consider her as treacherous and 
deceitful. Thus the exquisite and exalted powers 
of our intellectual faculties, are solely adapted to 
those inventions and discoveries which respect the 
accommodation of man, in his passage through this 
transient state of things ! Subjects infinitely more 
momentous are not within her particular province. 
All the fidelity with which her powers execute infe- 
rior tasks, ought not to seduce us into a confidence 
in her, when we are searching after metaphysical, 
moral, or religious truths. These are to be disco- 
vered at once, by inward and infallible sensations, 
and our intellectual faculties are to be rejected as 
impertinent, intrusive, and dangerous ! 

But what augments our surprise is, that at the 
instant in which reason is declared incompetent to 
judge of these subjects, the Doctor implores her 
aid to the establishment of his system ! and that his 
favourite common sense did not immediately dis- 
cover to him the absurdity of the project ! If our 
Professor's arguments be futile, the system falls of 
itself ; if they be potent, their very potency will de- 
stroy it ; for the arduous province assigned to rea- 
son 



192 DOCTRHS^E OF 

son is to excite, by ratiocination, the strongest su- 
spicions that the powers of ratiocination are not to 
be credited ! He would thus compel it to prove its 
own fallibility; and he reduces himself to the ne- 
cessity of reposing a full confidence in that reason 
which he earnestly admonishes us to distrust ! 

We may rest assured, that pure unsophisticated 
reason will not become her own assassin. She will 
disobey the unreasonable mandate ; she will pru- 
dently step aside, and give place to strong asser- 
tions, to general declamation, to confused language, 
to undefined terms, to partial statements, and occa- 
sional sarcasms, to a speciousness in argumenta- 
tion which may embarrass some, and entrap others; 
but she will never support the cause of a philosopher 
who treats her with studied disrespect. The obser- 
vations we are about to . make will illustrate the fact. 
Reason is indignant at the requisition, and com- 
pletely forsakes the theorist ! 

After having perused the above extracts, with the 
utmost attention, we can discover nothing in them 
but a positive assertion^ that there is a principle 
within us superior to reason, more instantaneous, 
and more certain in the perception of truth. This 
assertion has not the shadow of a proof beyond 
slight and vague analogies, which, in no case, are to 
be trusted as the foundations of an hypothesis, and 
in the case before us are irrelevant to the subject. 

He 



COMMOJT SENSE. 

Me has not accurately stated what this principle 
is ; how it is to be distinguished from every other ; 
proved its existence, or manifested its influence to 
be as extensive and universal as his system abso- 
lutely demands. For want of a better term he calls 
it common Sense ; and he gives a reason for the 
choice, which is by nq means satisfactory. This 
common sense he invests, at one time, with the at- 
tribute of intuition ; at another, he makes it instinc-- 
five. Sometimes we are to know truths by instan- 
taneous and instinctive impulse, or to perceive in- 
tuitive truths by internal feelings ; sometimes by 
the suggestions of the understanding ; sometimes 
he screens his hypothesis behind the constitution of 
nature \ and sometimes he honours it with the title 
of moral sentiment. 

The doctrine advanced is simply this* There is 
a something within us to which the name of com- 
mon sense may be given, but what it is, does not 
so clearly appear, which is to direct us into the 
knowledge of the most important truths. It is dif- 
ferent from reason, and far superior to it in the 
promptitude and accuracy of its decisions ; and in 
this we ought to have an implicit confidence, in op- 
position to the most powerful arguments ! 

As the varied phrases so copiously used are not 
synonymous ; as they have distinct characters, we 
are at a loss which to prefer. Intuition, instinct, 

O internal 



194 



internal feeling, suggestions of the undei^standing, 
constitution of nature, moral sentiment, are all 
blended together, without the least attention to those 
essential differences which render their amalgama- 
tion impracticable. 

This learned Moralist needs not to be informed 
that Intuition is not Instinct ; that the one belongs 
to the clearest perceptions of intellect, and to the 
higher orders of intelligence exclusively ; the other 
to the lowest classes of animated nature ; that neither 
of them is a proper characteristic of our mental 
powers ; intuition is above them, instinct is below 
them ; that the province of the understanding is 
totally different from that of imparting a sensation. 
It is confined to a clear conception of a proposi- 
tion, or a tenet \^ hich it consigns over to the judge- 
ment to adopt or reject. Nor can he be ignorant 
that, although moral sentiment peculiarly belongs to 
man, it refers to moral conduct and dispositions, 
and has no immediate relation to the discovery of 
truths, physical or moral. 

The most impressive idea conveyed by the above 
statements is, that whenever a man thinks or acts 
instantaneously, h€ must think and act right. He 
is influenced by the intuition of a God, the infal- 
lible instinct of an animal ; or he is secured from 
error by his understanding, without the slow pro- 
gress of induction ; by his own moral sentiment, 

or 



COMMON SENSE. 195 

or by the constitution of his nature. What are 
we to think of this galimatia ? Where are we to 
begin ? or on which of these principles to build 
our faith ? 

As the Professor has expatiated considerably upon 
the powers of instinct, we shall pay particular atten- 
tion to what he has advanced. He attempts to give 
a ludicrous colouring to the opinions of those phi- 
losophers who maintain that, in the various offices 
of life, man is governed by reason, and brutes by 
instinct. He says, If it were true, man would be 
governed by himself, and brutes by their maker. 
See Extract No. VIH. 

Has the Doctor forgotten that man is a creature 
of God — that he has received his rational powers 
from the source of all life — that when he employs 
them properly, according to the laws of his rational 
nature, he is no more governed by himself, in the 
sense here assumed, than is the brute who obeys 
the impulse of his instinct ? 

The Professor asserts also, that our instincts, as 
well as our reasoning powerS; are far superior, both 
in number and dignity, to those which brutes en- 
joy. These he has not specified ; and, out of so 
large a number, he has not referred to one which is 
adapted to his theory ; not one vvhich will enable a 
man to discern the truth of a proposition, or the 
rectitude of a particular action. 

o2! The 



196 i)OCTllINE OF 

The idea we annex to instinct is, that property in 
animals which enables them to act in a manner 
correspondent with their stations, and subservient 
to useful purposes, without their being under the 
necessity of deliberating about what ought to be 
done, or the best mode of acting. The hound is 
enabled by the scent to trace the path of the ani- 
mal he pursues, without arguing about the proba- 
bility of his having followed a particular track. The 
bee is taught by the God of Nature to form a de- 
posit for the honey, which would demand great exer- 
tions of human reason to equal, or even to imitate. 
The birds build their nest, w^hich have comfort and 
security for their object, and the spider most dexte- 
rously spins its web to catch his prey, without either 
of them having been apprenticed to artisans. Is 
man endowed with moral and intellectual instincts 
analogous to these ? and yet this is required by the 
hypothesis, and insinuated by the allusion. Have 
his intellectual powers any thing analogous to the 
scent of an hound ? Do they enable him to smell 
out the truth of a proposition amidst the windings 
of sophistry ? Can he treasure up knowledge in 
some curious depository of his own formation ; or 
build secure and comfortable systems, with an accu- 
racy similar to that of the bird in building her nest ? 
or spin webs to catch infidel flies, like the sagacious 
spider } If these inquiries appear ludicrous, let 

his 



COMMON SENSE. 197 

his admirers find out other analogies, of a more se- 
rious character. 

Again. In each class of animals, the instincts 
are invariably alike; in each, the operations are uni- 
formly the same. None are defective, none are re- 
dundant. No one can accuse a participant of the 
same nature of error or deformity. But is the in- 
stinctive conviction, of which the Professor boasts, 
communicated to all men with a similar unifor- 
mity ? If so, all mankind would be of one opinion, 
and disputes would cease for ever. If one human 
being be destined, by the constitution of his nature, 
to believe in a particular manner, he that believes 
diiferently, cannot be participant of the same nature. 

Our philosopher has given, in the extract follow- 
ing, some latitude to a difference of opinion, within 
the precincts of his own hypothesis. It appears 
that there are truths of different kinds, adapted to 
different constitutions ; some of these are proba- 
ble truths, others are certain truths. See Extract 
No. III. 

Such positions may not be inconsistent with a 
system which makes truth to depend upon the state 
of our feelings, instead of requiring that our feel- 
ings should be regulated by truths. It was needless 
to add rational beings ; for if we dismiss our ra- 
jfcionality, we shall the more readily believe the po- 
sition ; 



19S DOCTRINE OF 

sition ; and this is the very requisition which the hy- 
pothesis has the boldness to demand. According 
to such sentiments, we are no longer surprised to 
hear that metaphysical truths are not genuine, as 
he has asserted in another place. 

But it is quite a novel discovery in philosophy, 
that whatever a rational being is determined, by 
the constitution of his nature, to admit to be pro- 
bable, becomes a prohahle TRUTH. It is, however, 
merely in a state of probation or of progressive im- 
provement. It is as yet simply a truth ; another 
state of mind is necessary to render it certain I It 
is not a certainty unless it produce conviction. So 
that a fact is not a fact, until we become confident 
of its truth ! Is ^iiis consistent with the position, 
that truth is considered by all mankind as something 
fixed, unchangeable, eternal ? Do not these sen- 
timents approach much nearer to the systems of 
Berkley and Hume, than the warm antagonist of 
these philosophers could have possibly imagined ? 
They derive our ideas of the existence of matter, 
merely from the state of our sensations ; and it now 
appears that their opponent's ideas of truth itself 
have precisely the same basis. 

Every man whose intellects are not absolutely 
lost in the vortex of the Doctor's hypothesis, will 
immediately perceive that he has confounded truth 
itself, whose nature is immutable, with the versati- 
lity. 



COMMON* SEiSrSE. 199 

lity of our opinions concerning it. If there be truths 
existing, they must exist independent of iis. It is 
our duty to inquire lohether lliey twist, where theij 
lie, xvhat is their nature, character, influence, that 
we may render them profitable to us. Total ig- 
norance keeps the mind in a toi^j^d state ; partial 
knowledge sets it at work. Our first ideas will pro- 
bably be crude and erroneous. These we shall cor- 
rect as we advance in knowledge. A fact remains 
as it is ; but to us it will have different appearanceSy 
according to the degrees of our knowledge respect- 
ing it. We think that it may exist, for we see no 
absurdity in the opinion. This suggests the idea 
of a possibility. Upon further examination, we re- 
mark that many circumstances conspire to favour 
the opinion. We may reasonably suppose that it 
exists, although the evidences are not positive or 
conclusive. They suggest, however, the idea of a 
prohability. Indubitable proofs finally present them- 
selves ; we now arrive at a certainty. These gra- 
dations respect ourselves ; they indicate the dif- 
ferent states of our minds ; they cannot have the 
least influence on a fact, totally independent of us. 

The following illustration of the Doctor s prin- 
ciples must appear to be a confutation of them, to 
every unbiassed reader. 

A merchant freights a vessel for the West Indies. 
He thinks that the speculation will be advantageous. 

The 



200 



DOCTRINE OF 



The probabilities are, that it will sail with the first 
fair wind, proceed immediately to the destined port, 
and make a prosperous voyage. Here, then, ac- 
cording to the Doctor's system, are three probable 
truths. The captain, however, knows that the first 
probable truth will be a falsehood ; for he deter- 
mines to sail to the coast of Guinea, to purchase a 
few slaves. The probable truth with him is, that he 
shall sell them advantageously. A storm arises, 
which endangers the vessel to such a degree, that 
the probable truth now is that the vessel will sink, 
and the crew perish. There is^ however, a possible 
truth that they will escape. They do escape, and, 
to the surprise and joy of every one, the possible 
truth triumphs over the probable. But in approach- 
ing the American coast, the vessel is taken by a 
privateer and carried as a prize into Baltimore. The 
certain truth is, that all the expected advantages, 
notwithstanding they were all of them truths in their 
turns, are lost to the parties primarily concerned ; 
and they lament to find that all their probable truths 
were errant deceptions, being destitute of the car- 
dinal stamp of convictio7i. 

Such is the explicit language of this hypothesis \ 

Extract II. contains an inconsistency so gross, 
that it is surprising it could have escaped the writer, 
or any of his readers. He says, I account that 

to 



COMMOI^ SENSE. 



201 



to be a truth which the constitution of our nature 
determines us to believe, and that to be a falsehood 
^vhich the constitution of our nature determines us 
to disbelieve ;" and yet, before the paragraph is 
finished, an acknowledgement is made, that we often 
believe what we afterwards find to be false. Hence 
it is plain that this constitution of our nature, in 
which we are to place an implicit confidence, often 
determines us to believe a falsehood. He adds, 
" while belief continues we think it true," &c. This 
may safely be admitted ; for we cannot believe a 
thing to be true and false at the same time. The 
Doctor has not informed us in what manner we are 
able to detect the falsity of our first belief. Nor 
could he, wdthout destroying his vi'hole system. If 
it was by a reasoning process, then was reason tri- 
umphant over this constitutional feeling. If it be 
by other feelings, then will there be a contest be- 
tween feeling and feeling, and we must suspend be- 
lief until we know which is the strongest. 

He asserts, in the same paragraph, that believing 
and disbelieving are simple acts of the mind. He 
says, " I can neither define nor describe them.'* 
This confession is an additional evidence of the im- 
potency of his system. The nature of beHef was ge- 
nerally understood, before this new philosophy at- 
tempted to dethrone reason, and feelings m 
the seat of umpire. It was generally considered as 

a per- 



rrOCTillHE OF 



a persuasion of mind that certain positions are true 
or false, according to the force of evidence ; and the 
force of evidence was thought to depend upon the 
perception of facts which relate to the position ad- 
vanced, and which render it possible, probable, cer- 
tain ; or, on the contrary, impossible, improbable, 
false- 

In Extract IV. two distinct sources of convic- 
tion are marked out. The certainty of some truths 
is perceived intuitively ; of others, in consequence 
of a proof." This distinction is no other than a 
bold assumption, w^hich, as it forms the basis of his 
hypothesis, ought to have been piwed. He has ad- 
duced no satisfactory evidence that any one truth is 
known intuitively. A quick perception of it is no 
proof of intuition. This quick perception may arise 
from the causes which have seduced some philoso- 
phers into the belief of a moral sense. They, in 
like manner, have been compelled to devise a new 
principle, in order to explain a phasnomenon, which 
a deeper inquiry into human nature can very well 
dispense with. Not to observe that it was a cul- 
pable impatience of ignorance, and a vain presump- 
tion, that what we cannot explain, must in its own 
nature be mcvplicahle, that gave rise to the ancient 
doctrine of innate ideas ; which that great master 
of reasoning, Mr. Locke, has so fully exploded. 

In 



COMMON SENSE. 



203 



In Extract VI. our author states his principles 
with some degree of caution. He distinguishes be- 
tween progressive argumentation on the one hand, 
and the influence of Education and Habit on the 
other. The infallible impulse must be from nature, 
from nature alone. 

The object of this caution is to enter a protest, 
in the most arbitraiy manner, against objections 
which, if admitted, would annihilate his system. 
He has brought three principles of action under 
consideration : — a strong primitive impression, that 
things are in nature, as they appear to the percipient; 
the deductions of reason ; and the influence of edu- 
cation and habit. He attempts to destroy the de- 
ductions of reason, by proving that she is incompe- 
tent to decide ; he imposes a Teto upon the report 
of education and habit ; and the primitive impres- 
sion alone is permitted to remain upon the pre- 
mises. This is our infallible guide, although it has 
no other support than the conviction of my own 
mind, that its decisions are infallible. This inward 
conviction is also to be its own criterion, by which 
it distinguishes itself from the deductions of reason 
on the one hand, and the influence of education and 
habit on the other ! 

The Professor's solicitude to exclude education 
and habit, can only proceed from the apprehension 
that their evidence would endanger his whole system. 

- But 



£04 



DOCTRINE OF 



But would any court of judicature permit the per- 
son, whose character is to be investigated, to enter 
a formal protest against the admission of a principal 
evidence, and insist upon the court's being satisfied 
by his own positive declarations that he is innocent? 
Does not decency require that the Professor should 
show their disqualifications to appear as witnesses 
in this cause ? Or ought he not to have pointed 
out, with the utmost accuracy, the distinctions be- 
tween these feelings implanted by nature, and those 
derived from education ? This he has not done, nor 
would it be an easy task. 

By Education we are to understand, not those 
partial, and frequently erroneous instructions, which 
are infused into the mind, in professed seminaries 
of learning ; not being drilled into particular modes 
of thinking and acting, by appointed teachers. The 
education of the human mind commences in the 
cradle ; and the impressions received there frequent- 
ly exert their influence, through the whole of life. 
Principles which take the deepest root, are those 
implanted during the seasons of infancy, childhood, 
and youth. The young pupil takes early lessons 
from every thino; around him ; his character and 
habits are forming, before he has any consciousness 
of his reasoning powers. The grand principles, by 
which he is chiefly actuated, are always formed ac- 
cording to the customs and the principles prevalent 



COMMON SENSE. 



205 



in the country, or intimate connexions where he is 

placed, until 

" What softer natures start at with affright, 
The hard inhabitant contends is right." 

Could such pupils have received lessons at so early 
a period, correspondent with the Doctor's system, 
they would contend, that these intuitive impressions 
belong to thein, to thei?^ nation, to their community 
exclusively. Not an individual among them would 
be able to distinguish between his education and 
habits, and primitive illuminations of nature ; nor 
could Dr. Beattie assist them. In every case, im- 
pulses would appear primitive and instantaneous ; 
and, in every case, the parties would be equally posi- 
tive. Instances innumerable present themselves, in 
which not only individuals, but whole nations, take 
it for granted that sentiments and actions are not 
only right, but obligatory, which the Doctor's more 
cultivated mind teaches him to regard with horror. 
In this predicament is the implacable spirit of bar- 
barians, who deem an act of clemency to an enemy 
an act of injustice to themselves ; the exposure of 
infants to prevent an excess of population ; the self- 
devotion of the Hindoo female, and all the idolatries 
of the Pagan 'world. 

The exceptions or distinctions which he makes, 
concerning absurdities in dress, fashions, religion, 
are perfectly arbitrary. Common sense, that infal- 
lible 



W6 BOCTRIKE OF 

libie guide, ought to reprobate whatever is absurdj 
without reserve or partiality. He asserts with a 
tone of triumph, " None of us will say that it is 
agreeable to common sense to worship more Gods 
than one ; or to believe that one and the same body 
may he In ten thousand different places at the same 
time,'' Sec. He could not have advanced positions 
more fatal to his hypothesis. None of us will say 
it, because we are christians ; we have been edu- 
cated monotheists. The power of education, so 
arbitrarily and ungratefully excluded by him, has 
happily introduced among us those better principles, 
which appear so rational, that we are now astonish- 
ed at pristine ignorance and superstition. Before 
the initiation of christians into scriptural truths, the 
whole world, with the exception of one despised na- 
tion, embraced a plurality of Gods. The torrent of 
opinion in favour of this plurality was so strong, 
that the Hebrews were, with extreme difficulty, pre- 
vented from imitating the example of surrounding 
nations ; although they were instructed, by an im- 
mediate revelation, in the doctrine of the Divine 
unity. How came our philosopher not to perceive 
that modern common sense, and ancient common 
sense, run as counter to each other as Christianity 
and paganism ? He will not say that both are true, 
although he has given such a latitude to truths. But 
how has he discovered that the one is not a truth ? 

Most 



COMMON SElSrsK. 207 

Most certainly not by his boasted common sense. 
For the horrors of paganism were not detected by 
instantaneous intuitwe impulse, by instinct, or by 
the constitution of our nature ; but by an immediate 
revelation from Heaven, which our reason teaches is 
divine. If the inference, that whatever contradicts 
common sense must be false, had been as univer- 
sally and tenaciously supported by Pagans and Jews, 
as the Doctor's system enjoins, Christianity could 
never have gained admission. It was this very prin- 
ciple which drew upon the apostle Paul the ridicule 
of his audience, when he preached to them the re- 
surrection from the dead. They thought the doc- 
trine contradicted common sense, and therefore they 
rejected it with scorn. 

Thus again, respecting transubstantiation ; none 
of US believe in the doctrine, because we have been 
educated in the protestant faith. Our Professor has 
forgotten that there are, in this enlightened age, ten 
Roman catholics who believe in the tenet, to one 
protestant who rejects it : so that the tide of com- 
mon sense runs irresistibly strong against us ; and 
if protestants oppose the doctrine with success, this 
must alone be ascribed to that reason, to which he 
is so inimical. 

Among the Protestants, who always deem them- 
selves rational christians, by far the majority be- 
lieve in the doctrine of a trinity. This, at first blush, 

appears 



^08 



DOCTRINE OF 



appears inconsistent with the common sense of mari^ 
kind. If it was an article in our Professor's creed^ 
he received it in opposition to his own principles. In 
this case, he was obliged to have recourse to exploded 
reason, to enable him to believe in an apparent ab- 
surdity. The foundation of his faith was laid in its 
appearing to be a scripture doctrine; and he thought 
it more rational to receive it as a mystery, than to 
permit his favourite common sense to reject it as an 
absurdity. 

There are numberless things which primitively 
appear to be facts, to every individual living, until 
reason and experience evince the contrary. Of 
these we have given several instances, in another 
place"^. Every child imagines that whatever exists, 
prior to his own existence, as churches, houses, trees, 
&c. had no beginning : it is only to that which 
appears a perfect no'oelty that he ascribes a cause. 
Every child supposes that the Deity has an human 
form ; and every child thinks that his father is the 
wisest man in the world. Can any articles of hu- 
man belief appear to be more instinctivCy or accord- 
ing to the constitution of nature, than these ? Yet 
reason informs Dr. Beattie, and every one of his 
disciples, that such positions are grossly erroneous. 

It appears incontestable, from the above remarks, 
that the appropriate idea annexed to common sense 

* See Sped. § vi.; also Note E. 

can 



COMMON SENSE. 209 

can be no other than the common or public opi- 
nion ; or the opinion which is very prevalent in cer- 
tain communities. Such an opinion, let it be most 
absurd, is always supposed to be founded upon a 
solid basis. The human understandincr will not 
embrace an absurdity as an absurdity ; but these 
societies never admit that their opinions are absurd. 
They adhere to them with affection, and they re- 
joice to see them defended, by even the feeblest at- 
tempts to reason. 

When a proposition is advanced, or a fact as- 
serted, and puts in its claim for belief, there is a 
strong presumption that it is of importance. This 
presumption will raise sensations within us, corre- 
spondent, both in nature and degree, to the impor- 
tance supposed. The cause of the sensation, there- 
fore, must be something interesting, and the object 
or final cause of its excitement is either to pursue 
or avoid ; but the system before us makes sensa- 
tions the tests of truth. Of these laws I do not 
pretend to know any thing, except so far as they 
seem to be intimated to me by my own feelings.'\ 
See Extract 1. Now this is not the province of our 
feelings, and they are totally disqualified for the of- 
fice. They are most prone to be injurious to truth ; 
sometimes by exaggerations, and sometimes by per- 
verting the judgement. 

Again ; the ideas we have formed of the subject 
p may 



210 



DOCTRINE OF 



may be true, or they may be erroneous : but as long 
as we believe them to be true, our sensations will 
accompany the belief. Should we change our opi- 
nions, our sensations will cease, or change also. 
Hence it appears that this constitution of our na- 
ture, which is a main pillar of his hypothesis, is 
no other than a versatile feeling, sometimes true, 
sometimes false, and consequently never to be 
trusted as the tests of truth. 

" I do not pretend to know any thing," says our 
philosopher, except so far as they (that is, these 
law^s) seem to be intimated to me, by my own feel- 
ings, or by the suggestions of 77iy own understand- 
ing'' This representation obviously makes feel- 
ings and understanding synonymous. But the mo- 
ralist could not be ignorant that the one belongs 
to the sensitive nature of man, and the other to 
his intellectual nature ; and w^e all know that these 
are not only distinct, but frequently so opposite to 
each other, that it is the grand and difficult office 
of the understanding, sometimes to direct, and at 
others to subdue, our feelings. No man will se- 
riously maintain that our feelings are always as 
they ought to be ; and every wise man will consult 
his reason, that he may know whether his feelings 
be correspondent with the real nature of things, or 
the offspring of ignorance, prejudice, education, 
and habit. 

Although, 



COMMON SENSE. Qll 

Although, in the above passage, the author has 
blended together the offices of the feeling and the 
understanding, he has, in another place, been very 
careful to distinguish them. In Extract VII. he 
says, " Common sense cannot be accounted for by 
being called the perfection of reason, nor reason by 
being resolved into common sense," kc. To this po- 
sition we give our cordial assent ; not because his 
mode of supporting it is satisfactory, for he has as- 
sumed as a truth what ought to have been first 
proved : his opponents will deny the existence of 
that energy which perceives intuitive truths, without 
the aid of reason, and sometimes in opposition to it. 
But we admit the position itself, from a conviction 
that common sense is nothing more than that which 
appears to be rational, whether it be so or not. It 
is the general opinion, which it is the prerogative of 
reason to correct when it is erroneous or savage. 
We grant also, that there is no necessary connexion 
between reason and common sense. For common 
sense, when best explained, being no other than com- 
mon opinion, will sometimes be true, and some- 
times be false ; although it can never appear absurd 
to the community under the influence of its maxims. 
The durability of these maxims will be measured by 
the empire of common sense ; when she yields to 
reason, the subject will become civilised and intel- 
ligent. 

F 2! What 



DOCTRINE OF 



What the Doctor has alleged concerning the' 
state of the mind in dreams is also fallacious, and, 
upon examination, it furnishes a powerful argument 
against his favourite principles, instead of support- 
ing them. In dreams the imagination is most ac-^ 
live ; and in the midst of its vagaries, it may, for a 
short time, pursue a regular concatenation of ideas. 
But the dreamer is always guilty of the same eiTor 
in his sleep, as our Professor is commiting in his 
wakeful hours. He attempts to argue upon assump- 
tions which exist no where but in his own mind. 
The man also who thinks that he is made of glass^ 
argues and acts wisely, when he is cautious not to 
break himself into shivers by striking against a hard 
substance : the absurdity consists in supposing that 
he is made of glass. 

In the last Extract, No. XL we have the wind- 
ing-up of the argument. Our Professor is unwill- 
ing to admit the truth of a proposition, made by 
some philosophers, that we ought to commence a 
philosophical course of inquiry, by doubting of every 
thing. " It would infallibly make reason to be the 
ultimate judge of truth," he says, and compel com- 
mon sense to act in subordination." He undertakes 
to prove the contrary, " for all sound reasoning must 
ultimately rest on the principles of common sense; 
that is, on principles intuitively certain, or intuitively 
probable ; and consequently that common sense is 

the 



COMMON SE^TSE. ^13 

the ultimate judge of truth, to which reason must 
<;ontinually act in subordination*." 

This statement is introductory to the second chap- 
ter, in which he makes every effort in his power to 
support it. 

Those of my readers who may admit that, in the 
preceding remarks, I have detected many fallacies 
in the mode of reasoning of this declared antagonist 
to the free exercise of human reason, will naturally 
expect similar fallacies, similar confused and inde- 
finite language, similar strong assertions and weak 
arguments, as pervaded the first chapter. Nor will 
they be mistaken. But as it would be tiresome, both 
to them and myself, to go through another process 
of disentanglement to an equal extent, they will 
readily excuse brevity in my future remarks. 

In this chapter the Professor indicates a very 
strong desire to convince us, that after any proposi- 
tion is full}^ proved, we still believe it without proof. 
It is not evidence, but feel'mg^ that finally consti- 
tutes the criterion. After we have obtained a clear 
perception of a fact, and acknowledge the justness 
of the reasoning which has convinced the mind of 
the inquirer, we still perceive the tinith of it, in- 
stinct i'celij, intuiti'vely, constitutionally. We are 
told that mathematical truth is founded on first 

* See Note R. 

prii> 



214 



DOCmiNE OP 



principle^), which common sense, or instinct, or the 
constitution of nature, or the understanding, or the 
law of rational nature, compels us to believe, with- 
out proof, whether we will or not ! 

Was there greater confusion of language at the 
building of Babel ? 

" When every workman, with embarrass'd stammer, 
Call'd for a chisel, tho' he meant a hammer ?" 

But respecting the doctrine itself, our Jii^st observa- 
tion is, that the theorist, through the whole of this 
chapter, has given himself unnecessary trouble. The 
grand advantage proposed, by establishing the exist- 
ence of a common sense, as a criterion superior to 
reason, makes it of no moment whether it be ra- 
tional or not. The grand characteristic of this com- 
mon sense consists in its being primary and instan- 
taneous in its decisions. Our reasoner now at- 
tempts, by a kind of legerdemain, to transmute it 
into an an ultimate standard. It is destined not 
only to decide, but to judge of its own decisions. 
Now in this department it must be useless. If 
common sense is to be our guide, in some cases 
w^here we cannot reason, and in others in opposi- 
tion to reason, it is of no moment that it should oc- 
casionally agree with the dictates of reason. We 
are advised to think and act instantaneously, with- 
out waiting for an ultimate standard, which may 
demand a tedious process. This new office of our 

infal- 



COMMON SEN-SE. 



infallible conductor comes much too late. As we 
are to act or to think according to the first impres- 
sion, the deductions of reason would be superfluous, 
when they authorized the imprer.sion, and when 
they disapprove they are not to be credited. 

2. Our author, in pursuit of this argument, ac- 
knowledges that genuine reasoning, even in moral 
and metaphysical subjects, may exist, and will con- 
duct us incontestably to truth ; — why then should he 
attempt to weaken its influence, since by fostering 
care it may become genuine ? Admitting the truth 
and the importance of his assertion, that from the 
ambiguity and insufficiency of language it is easy to 
argue on both sides of a question, with an embar- 
rassing acuteness, is it not more adviseable to at- 
tempt superior acuteness, by which the confounder 
may himself be confounded, than to aim at the de- 
struction of an instrument excellent in itself, because 
another person is more dexterous in the use of it ? 

3. When it is asserted that, even in mathematics, 
however complicated the problem, and tedious the 
process, the conviction of the truth must be ascribed 
to intuition, I may safely appeal to the common 
sense of all mankind, that is, to the universal sen- 
timent, whether this be not an insufferable abuse of 
language ? Whether the word intuition was ever ap- 
plied by the philosophers of any other school, an- 
cient or modern, in so absurd a manner ? We may 

justly 



£16 



DOCTRINE OF 



justly doubt whether the term be applicable to any 
branch of human knowledge, unless it be by cour- 
tesy and accommodation, where the promptitude 
of perception seems to rival the intuitive know- 
ledge of superior beings ; but to apply it to the 
conviction which results from slow investigation is 
preposterous in the extreme. If the disciples of 
our theorist wall justify the term, let them yoke it 
with another which he has uniformly made synony- 
mous. Let them assert, that when a mathemati- 
cian has, with much labour and time, solved a com- 
plex theorem, he has done it iust'inciively also. 

Dr. Beattie has observed in a note, that " if the 
truth of a proposition be clearly and certainly per- 
ceived by all men mthoiit proof ; and if no proof 
whatever could make it more clear or more certain, 
it seems captious not to allow that proposition the 
name of intuit we axiom.'' 

I maintain in answer, that such a proposition 
never existed ; and I think that I have proved, that 
the proposition which is most clearly perceived, can- 
not be termed self -evident^ according to the mean- 
ing which is eagerly annexed to the term ; that 
there must have been an intellectual process, how- 
ever rapid ; that if an axiom be clear to the mathe- 
matician or metaphysician, it is not to an unculti- 
vated mind. When philosophers commeix:e their 
abstruse researches, it is always at a mature age. 

They 



COMMON SENSE. 



217 



They enter their studies with the immense advan- 
tage of a previous education. They have impercep- 
tibly been gathering up principles in their infancy, 
childhood, and youth, by which alone they become 
qualified to philosophize, and to which they have 
been so long habituated, that, as it plainly appears, 
they have totally forgotten the origin of their philo- 
so})hical knowledge. If this be the case, and I defy 
the disciples of our theorist to disprove it, the term 
intuitive is intrusive and absurd. He takes for 
granted what he is bound to prove, that intuitive 
principles exist, and then to point out what they 
are. Will he send us away with the assertion, 
that I know by intuition the existence of intuitive 
principles ? Is positiveness an attribute of intuition ? 
Can he expect to satisfy us, though he may himself, 
with the syllogism, whenever I am positive a thing 
exists, or a principle is true, it is by intuition ; and 
therefore every time I am positive, I have an intui- 
tive knowledge independent of all proof ? 

He adds, You may bring this matter to the test 
by laying a few halfpence or farthings upon the 
table; but the evidence of sense is not more un- 
questionable than that of abstract intuitive truth." 
I answer. We have no proof that such a truth was 
ever known by man. This supposed intuitive 
truth could never have been suggested to the mind, 
if the halfpence and farthings had not been laid 

upon 



DOCTRINE Of 



Upon the table first. Every abstract idea lias 
a primitive principle, from which the abstraction is 
made ; and if we do not keep this truth perpetually 
in view, abstraction fosters the wildest speculations 
that can be indulged. It is not captiousness but 
pmdence, to desire a philosopher to use the proper 
w^ord in a definite sense. The man who is perpe- 
tually indulging himself with desultory language, 
ought always to be closely watched, lest he be 
guilty of a pernicious abuse of terms. But there is 
a secret cause of his great predilection for the terms 
intuitwe and intuition. They contain a latent mean- 
ing which favours his system, and supersedes the 
necessity of proofs. Intuitive knowledge has a fa- 
mily alliance with the doctrines of a moral sense 
and of innate ideas, and the unsuspecting admis- 
sion of the term prepares the way for the admission 
of common sense also. Were intuition to be con- 
sidered as synonymous with clear perception, it 
would simply be regarded as the basis of right rea- 
soning, or the result of right reasoning, and would 
render the intuitive faculty totally useless. 

4. The only consistent idea of the object or pyr- 
port of this chapter is to prove, that as the ultimatum 
is the same, whether it be derived from what he has 
termed intuition, or instinct, or the constitution of 
my nature, or the dictates of common sei^se, or my 
internal feelings, when I arrive there I am com- 
pelled 



COMMON SENSE. 219 

pelled to believe a proposition to be true, which I 
cannot demonstrate, or of which I have no proofs ; 
and therefore the mind is precisely in the same state 
as if it was convinced by argument. Let us only 
be convinced, and the right effect is produced; 
and the eff^ect being the same, the influence of 
common sense is in every respect as good as that of 
reasoning ; and as the exercise of common sense is 
more general and extensive than that of reason ; as 
it is more quick and determinate in its decisions, it 
is in every case greatly to be preferred. It is ex- 
tremely convenient to trust to it where we cannot 
reason ; and where we can, w^e arrive at the same 
point, that of conviction, and we can go no further. 
' To this I answer, that om feelings always accom- 
pany our opiniom ; that these opinions are derived 
from various sources, from education, habit, accu- 
rate or imperfect information, prejudices, and are 
greatly strengthened by our passions ; that they are 
various, changeable, and contradictory. In each 
case the sensation is similar, and therefore, accord- 
ing to the Doctor's theory, equally intuitive, instinc- 
tive, constitutional. But similarity of sensation can 
be no criterion of truth : and since every man has an 
equal right to trust to his own sensations as infallible 
guides, all men must be equally infallible, however 
contradictory their opinions : and as men frequentl}?' 
differ from themselves by changing their opinions 

and 



220 



DOCTRINE OF 



and sensations, they must always be infallible, though 
they contradict themselves every day of their lives. 
Though all reasoning terminates in first principles, 
this does not prove that all our sensations are 
founded upon right principles. This being the case, 
let us exercise this reason to find out principles 
npon which experience will show that we can de- 
pend ; and not pronounce with a tone of infallibi- 
lity, and then employ our reason to vindicate our 
precipitancy, and discard her if she cannot perform 
the task. Were the feelincfs of mankind uniform, 
were common sense in every age and nation, and 
under every kind of education, uniformly the same, 
then, and then alone would it be the infallible guide 
represented by the Doctor. But its indubitable 
diversities and contrarieties demand the direction of 
some other principle. It is therefore infinitely safer 
to pursue the old track, and trust to our judgement, 
according to the force of such evidence as it is able 
to collect, mther than permit our feelings to influ- 
ence our judgement : and whenever our reason shall 
have evinced, that whatever was generally deemed 
common sense, is no other than error and nonsense, 
she will evince also her ability to direct common 
sense into the right channel. 

As the above observations refer to the Doctor's 
object in composing the second chapter ; as they 

prove 



COMMON SENSE. £21 

prove that the design itself is useless, and the prin- 
ciples from which he expects success fallacious, we 
sliall not minutely investigate the contents of each 
section. There are, however, some assertions and 
statements which demand animadversion. 

Section the first treats of mathematical reasoning, 
which our logician attempts to press into the service 
of common sense. He asserts that every demon- 
stration resolves itself into intuitive and self-evi- 
dent principles, which it is impossible to prove and 
equally impossible to disbelieve." The only thing in- 
telligible in this statement is the truism that you can- 
not go beyond the final principles which have con- 
vinced you. You cannot produce other arguments 
to demonstrate to a man that he must be convinced, 
than those which have convinced him. In mathe- 
matics, what is this principle ? It can be no other 
than a demonstration that the theorem is true, by 
pointing out the relation of part to part, and of these 
to the whole, or to the theorem proposed. If I do 
not succeed I am an imperfect geometrician, or the 
theorem is false. When the propositions which 
the Doctor's common sense insists upon it must be 
true, shall have stood this test, she will deserve 
equal credit. No one could oppose common sense 
without losing his senses. 

The question, Who will pretend to prove the 
mathematical axiom, that a whole is greater than a 
part, and that things equal to one and the same 

thing, 



DOCTRINE OF 



thing, are equal to one another?" has been fully 
answered in another place. We have shown that 
there must have been an intellectual process of some 
length, before these facts were admitted as axioms*. 
The proposition must first be understood, a com- 
parison must be made, and a conclusion must be 
drawn. These being very easy problems, will soon 
be learned by children and illiterate adults; but 
they must be learned, and consequently cannot be 
self-evident. 

He further says, " Let us suppose that the evi- 
dence of external sense is not more unquestionable 
than that of abstract intuitive truth ; and that every 
intuitive principle in mathematics may thus be 
brought to the test of sense ; and if we cannot call 
the evidence of sense a proof, let us call it a con- 
firmation of an abstract principle. Yet he asks, 
What do we gain by this method of illustration?" 
This question must be answered by those who un- 
derstand it ; to me it is totally unintelligible. 

These embarrassed and embarrassing statements, 
however, whether intelligible or not, bring us to the 
glorious result : "In w^hatever way we view the sub- 
ject, the point we mean to illustrate appears cer- 
tain, namely, that all mathematical truth is founded 
on first principles, which common sense, or instinct, 
or the constitution of the human under stajiding, or 
the law o/* rational nature, compels us to believe, 

* See page 54, and Note B. 

without 



COMMON SENSE. 



223 



without proof, whether we will or not ! Thus, be- 
cause it is the law of rational nature that w^e must 
believe upon proper evidence, the law is that we 
must believe ; and since we must believe, it is the 
same thing whether we believe without evidence as 
with it. If this be not the express meaning of the 
paragraph, it has no meaning : and if the reader be 
disposed to believe these strange assertions without 
proof, no power on earth can prevent him. By 
the diversity of terms, how^ever, here employed, the 
Doctor himself appears to be in a state of uncer- 
tainty, in what manner he can best support his 
strange assertions. He has spread his net as widely 
as possible, in hopes of catching a something which 
may support his favourite common sense ; but the 
meshes appear to be so wide, that they let all the 
truths escape, and leave nothing but the grossest 
errors behind. 

In Section II. On the Evidence of e.vternal Sense, 
our Professor observes that, on this evidence is 
founded all our knowledge of external and material 
things ; and therefore all conclusions in natural phi- 
losophy, and all those prudential considerations 
which regard the preservation of our body, as it is 
liable to be offended by the sensible qualities of 
m.atter, must finally be resolved into this principle, 
that things are as our senses rep7^esent them^ 

I beg leave to remark that this is a precipitate 

inference; 



224 



DOCTRINE OF 



inference ; nor is the doctrine in the least requisite 
for the purposes mentioned. A knowledge of the 
powers of bodies to produce certain uniform effects, 
will answer every purpose as well as if we were inti- 
mately acquainted with their intrinsic natures. 
, The Doctor proceeds, ^' when I touch a stone, 
I am conscious of a certain sensation, which I call 
a sensation of hardness'' He justly observes that 
" this sensation is not hardness itself, nor any thing 
like hardness ; it is nothing more than a sensation 
or feeling in my mind." This, " however, is accom- 
panied with an irresistible belief, that this sensation 
is excited by the application of an external and hard 
substance to a certain part of my body and be- 
cause the belief accompanies the sensation, our phi- 
losopher resolutely maintains that they are both 
equally infallible. He asks, Why do I believe 
that this sensation is a real sensation, and really 
felt by me?" He answers, Because my consti- 
tution is such that I must believe so. And why do 
T believe, in consequence of my receiving this sen- 
sation, that I touch an external object, really exist- 
ing, material and hard ? The answer is the same : 
The matter is incapable of proof ; I believe, because 
I must believe," &c. &c. 

The positive assertion is, that things are as our 
senses represent them. The proofs of the assertion 
are, I believe that I feel a sensation of hardness. I 

believe 



COMMOlSr SENSE. 



225 



believe with equal confidence, that the sensation pro- 
ceeds from an external cause ; and thirdly, 1 believe 
with equal confidence, that the body exciting the sen- 
sation of hardness is itself hard ; and as according 
to the constitution of Dr. Beattie's nature, these three 
positions are believed with equal confidence, they 
must be equally true. 

I say Dr. Beatties constitution, because the con* 
stitution of Bishop Berkley is totally different. It 
requires him to believe that matter cannot exist ; 
that all the effects which vulgar error ascribes to 
matter, are to be ascribed to the immediate agency 
of God. The Bishop is so confident of the posi- 
tion, that he also is perpetually appealing to the 
common sense of mankind for the truth of it ; and 
he has advanced elaborate arguments to evince, that 
all men would believe with him, if false philosophy 
had not confounded their ideas, and corrupted their 
principles by the introduction of absurd abstractions. 
The constitution of other philosophers requires them 
to believe that things are not always as they are re- 
presented to us ; the constitution of ignorant minds 
teaches them that they are always as represented to 
them ; and the constitution of our Professor some- 
times teaches him to contradict himself upon this 
very subject. 

The Doctor's embarrassments arise from the truth 
of his confession, that he is not able to define belief. 

Q Hence 



225 



DOCTRINE OF 



Hence it is, that sometimes he confounds it with 
sensation, sometimes with intuition, sometimes with 
instinct. If he would return to a raUonal system, 
he might find a concurrence of principles which 
would solve every difficulty. Pie might say, My 
sensation is not an article of faith, or of belief, but 
of knowledge ; — that, if I feel this sensation at one 
time and not at another, there must be some cause ; 
a cause therefore exists equal to the production of 
the sensation of hardness ; by hardness I mean that 
property in body which resists pressure, or which 
prevents its being easily penetrated. When a per- 
son stretches forth his hand, and lays it upon a ta- 
ble, he perceives that the cause is external, and that 
the sensation did not rise spontaneously from within. 
If he be a disciple of Berkley, or a spiritualist, he 
will say, that this operative cause is God ; if he be- 
lieves in the existence of matter, and is also a theist, 
he will consider matter as some intermediate, en- 
dowed by the Supreme Agent with certain, powers, 
by which it is able to produce certain effects upon 
every thing around. One property of some of these 
bodies is, to produce the sensation of hardness 
upon contact. Here then are two objects of our 
attention : a sensation, and a cause. The sensation 
is the subject of knowledge. I know that \feel^ as 
certainly as I know that I exist. In this, and in 
this alone, the common sense of all mankind is of 

one 



co:mj\ion sense. 227 

one accord. That the sensation is produced by a 
cause, is a doctrine of inference. My reason tells 
me, that what has not always existed must be pro- 
duced by some agency, and that the agent must 
exist, because a nothing cannot act. But I venture 
a step further, and to theorize. I profess to know 
the intrinsic nature of the efficient cause ; here I 
undertake to explain its modus operandi ; and here it 
is that uncertainties, and with them, disputes, arise. 
The constitution of every man will inform him 
when he has an excruciatino; fit of the tooth-ache. 
He knows it so well, that he would think 3^ou in- 
sulted him, if you represented it as an article of be- 
lief. His Reason w ill tell him, that if he has a tooth- 
ache, he must have a tooth in his head. His Theory 
leads him to think that it must be ascribed to a de- 
cayed tooth ; his physician, upon examination, finds 
the tooth perfectly sound, and he ascribes the pain to 
a rheumatic affection. The tlieory of Dr. Beattie 
leads him to maintain, that the pain, the existence 
of a tooth, the cause of the pain, are equally. to be 
ascribed to a constitution of nature, compelling him 
to believe, without proof, whether he will or not ! 

Thus, respecting the Doctors statement, I know^ 
in given cases that I have a sensation which excites 
in my mind the idea of hardness. That I have the 
sensation is certain. It is not an article of opinion, 
but of positive knowledge. I ascribe this to a cause, 

Q 2 nor 



228 DOCTRINKOF 

nor am I exposed to deception ; for I know that if 
a sensation exists, a cause must exist. But it is not 
equally certain that I have a perfect knowledge of 
the cause. I may suppose, that hardness is in the 
stone itself ; this is a very natural supposition until 
I am better instructed. How many myriads of flies 
are there which run upon the surface of a still water, 
in a summer evening, without falling in or having 
their feet wet ! If they could reason, they would 
strenuously maintain that water is in its own nature 
impenetrable ; and if they could smile, they would 
smile at the apprehension of being drowned, by fall- 
ing to the bottom of a hard impenetrable substance. 
When we ascribe warmth to the sun, we are under 
no obligation to believe that his beams are intrinsi- 
cally hot ; they may simply possess the power of 
raising that sensation in sentient beings. The French 
and Italian idioms are founded on this idea, // fait 
chaud, Fa caldo — It makes hot. I smell the odour 
of a rose: that is, the rose emits effluvia which 
excite pleasing sensations in me, by affecting the 
olfactory nerves adapted to the sensation ; and 
without which it could not exist : hence it is never 
perceived by the eyes or the ears ; while a certain 
body we call light, and certain vibrations of atmo- 
spheric air, are adapted to affect the eyes and the 
ears, but not the smell or the taste. 

But we need not enlarge much under this head, 

ai 



COMMOISr SENSE. 229 

as Dr. Beattie has confuted himself by the follow- 
ing concession : "I will acknowledge that our senses 
do often impose upon us." How does this quadrate 
with the bold unqualified assertion, introductory of 
the subject before us, " TJi'uigs are as our senses 
represent them If our senses impose upon us in 
a single instance, their infallibility is gone, and the 
Professor's system with it : for he is obliged to have 
recourse to exploded reason to extricate himself 
from the difficulty. But although he implores her 
aid, to correct the mistakes of infallible common 
sense, he is still resolved to place his favourite. in 
the post of honour. He says, " a little attention 
will convince us that reason, though it may he em- 
ployed to correct the present false sensation^ is not 
the ultimate judge of this matter ; for all such rea- 
soning is resolvable into this principle of common 
sense, that things are what our senses represent 
them." That is, a detection of the fallibility of in- 
fallible common sense, is no reason why she should 
not remain equally infallible, like his Holiness the 
Pope, notwithstanding his numerous sins and er- 
rors : nor does it disqualify her from usurping the 
seat of umpire, in precedency to that very reason 
which has exposed her blunders. The Doctor has 
also forgotten that the subject before us has no re- 
lation to an ultimate judge ; but to that quick per- 
ception which entitles me to pronounce so boldly, 

that 



230 



DOCTRIXE OF 



that things are exactly as my senses represent 
them. 

Numberless are the instances of a deception on 
the first appearance of things, and of permanent de- 
ceptions in ignorant minds. What can strike the 
senses more forcibly than the rising of the sun in 
the east, and its setting in the west? We not only 
see its change of place, but at the verge of its rising 
or setting, we think that we see it in motion, while we 
are unconscious of motion in the earth. That the 
heavens move, and the earth stands still, has been the 
universal opinion, or, in the Doctor's language, the 
common sense of mankind. It is the opinion now 
of every one ignorant of astronomy, and yet the ra- 
tional powers of man confute it. If Dr. Beattie's 
attachment to common sense has not made him re- 
ject the Copernican system, his astronomical creed 
is in direct opposition to the testimony of his senses. 
Or let him place himself in a boat in rapid motion 
on a canal. He will see the adjacent trees swiftly 
pass by him, and the distant trees move in an op- 
posite direction. Will he in such cases confide in 
the report of his favourite common sense ? There 
are some cases, in which our senses make opposite 
reports respecting the same subjects. If I place 
one hand, that has been chilled to thirty degrees of 
Fahrenheit's thermometer, into a bason of water at 
the temperature of fifty, the water will feel warm; 

and 



COMMON SENSE. ^31 

and I must pronounce it to be warm, %\ith as much 
confidence as I believe it to be water. I place my 
other hand, heated to seventy or eighty degrees, into 
the same water : now I must believe the water to 
be cold, positively cold ; for things must be as our 
senses represent them. 

A dog, a monkey, and a child, view themselves 
in a mirj'oi' for the first time. The dog barks at 
another dog, so confident is he that his senses do 
not deceive him. The monkey grins, chatters, and 
paws at his comrade. The child goes behind the 
glass in search of a companion. None of them 
could be deceived, according to the Doctor's prin- 
ciples. They positively saw an object. Nor can 
the deception be discovered without the deductions 
of reason. The dog will perhaps bark till he is 
tired ; the monkey will feel surprised that he can- 
not come into contact with a playmate, who seems 
equally disposed to caress. The child will discover 
its error by not finding its associate behind the glass, 
and apply to his tutor to know the reason. The 
tutor explains the laws of optics ; the effects of re- 
flection from polished surfaces, &c. In this man- 
ner does the pupil arrive at a satisfactory ultimatum. 
His reason now convinces him that what he thought 
to be a substance, a real person, was a mere reflec- 
tion of himself. He will be delighted with this ad- 
dition to his knowledge, and leave the common 

sense 



2^32 ' DOCTRINE OF 

sense of our philosopher to sit before the glass, in 
the person of the monkey or the dog, in perpetual 
ignorance. 

Having made these comments on the Doctor's 
grand principle, and his mode of supporting it ; 
and having perhaps tired the reader as well as my- 
self, I would willingly conclude ; but as the Pro- 
fessor has ventured to apply his principles not only 
to facts, but also to the subject of morals, it will 
be necessary to make a remark or two upon some of 
his positions. 

In Section the third he treats of the evidence 
of internal sense ; and he resolves moral appro- 
bation and disapprobation into moral feeling. The 
doctrine of a moral sense has been the subject of 
9. preceding Speculation, to which we must refer. 
We shall direct our present attention, not only to 
the unsatisfactory manner in which the Doctor sup- 
ports his principles, but to the extremely dangerous 
tendency of the sentiments he advances in such: 
peremptory language. 

Our Moralist says that ^' we are made to feel 
that if we pick pockets we deserve punishment," 
This unqualified assertion, which he does not at- 
tempt to prove, must be supposed to refer to the 
serisations of all men, or it would not be relevant to 
his subject. Now, instead of being self-evident, it 

is 



CO^NIMON SEXSE. 



233 



is perfectly erroneous. It supposes that the idea 
of punishment is connate vvith the desire to steal; 
but, if we consult human nature, we shall learn that 
a thief never thinks of punishment, until he knows 
that the law will inflict it upon a detected oifender. 
The theory of our philosopher obhges him to re- 
ject the influence of education, because it contains 
a confutation of it. But as the authority of his "ceto 
doe's not extend to us, we shall pay the attention to 
it which the subject absolutely demands. A child 
who is trained up from his 'infancy by a wicked 
father, to nefarious practices^ feels no compunction ; 
nor is he apprehensive of any other consequence 
than of his father's anger, should he disobey. He 
must perceive danger before he will dread punish- 
ment from detection. But this dread does not rise 
as spontaneously as the Doctor's theory supposes. 
A Spartan youth never imagined that he deserved 
punishment by a dexterous theft. He would ex- 
pect a reward ; and acknowledge that the punish- 
ment was merited, should he neglect a fair oppor- 
tunity of practising his art. The feelings of mankind 
are as . different as their opinions, in different parts 
of the dobe : and accordins; to different inclina- 
tions, propensities, and habits, of the district. The 
good-natured Otaheite feels it to be an obligation 
of hospitality, to present his wife or daughter to a 
stranger. The Spaniard and the Turk feel it an 

obliga- 



234 



DOCTRINE OF 



obligation of personal honour to conceal their wives 
and concubines from the eyes of men. The wild 
Arab feels it to be honourable to live by the plun- 
der of unwary travellers ; and the ambitious so- 
vereign to subjugate inoffensive nations. An ar- 
dent youth feels it his duty to serve his country in 
the conflicts of war ; a cautious father feels it to be 
his duty, to keep the youth from being shot through 
the head by intermeddling with the quarrels of 
states. A Spartan feels it honourable to steal ; a 
virtuous christian feels it to be ignominious. Ac- 
cording to the system under consideration, they are 
advised to act according to their feelings, without 
argumentation, and they will all act perfectly right. 

Dr. Beattie proceeds : — " We ought to be grate- 
ful for favours received. Why? Because my con- 
science tells me so. How do you know that you 
ought to do that of which your conscience enjoins 
the performance ? I can give no other reason for 
it, but I //eel that such is my duty." " Here (he 
says) the investigation must stop ; or, if carried a 
little further, it must return to the same point. I 
know that I ought to do what my conscience en- 
joins, because God is the author of my conscience ; 
and I obey his w ill Avhen I. act according to the prin- 
ciples of my constitution. Why do you obey the 
will of God ? Because it is my duty. How know 
you that ? Because my conscience tells me so." 

ThQ 



COMMON SENSE. 



235 



The above passage contains sentiments not only 
repugnant to the soundest principles of ethics, bat 
authorizing every horrid act which may be com- 
mitted by ignorant and impassioned man. Unless 
the conscience of a man be directed by better guides 
than his own feelings, it may render him the most 
"destructive being upon the face of the earth. It 
justifies every cruel act of every bigot: — it esta- 
blishes the Inquisition in Spain : — it sanctions per- 
secutions for the honour of God and the good of 
souls, in every age, in every nation, and in the en- 
forcement of every tenet. Saul did perfectly right 
when he persecuted the church of Christ ; he did 
right also when he preached the gospel of Christ. 
Thus may a man act in the most inconsistent and 
most destructive manner, by foUovving this infallible 
guide. 

Hume, with all thy eccentricities, thou hast never 
advanced principles so inimical to the public v/eal ! 
A consistent disciple of Dr. Beattie may feel it to 
be his duty to become a pest to society; while thy 
disciples, were they invariably governed by thy prin- 
ciples, would become too sceptical to commit an 
injury ! 

This assertion may surprise the admirers of our 
Moralist, but they are incontrovertibly true ; admit- 
ting that the doctrines of each teacher have a corre- 
spondent influence upon the minds of his pupils. 

Age^ 



236 DOCTRINE OF 

A genuine disciple of Mr. Hume, is taught to 
doubt whether any thing in the universe exists, be- 
sides himself. He cannot, therefore, be naturally 
inclined to do either good or harm. There may be 
no one to benefit by virtuous conduct ; no one to 
injure by vice : why then should he attempt to act? 
If he doubts of the existence of external objects, he 
is in no great danger that they will excite any un^ 
ruly passions. They cannot lead him astray, for 
he may have no where to go. He is a mere mass 
of thought, and every time he attempts to act he is 
an apostate from his principles. Mr. Hume freely 
confesses that his doctrines cannot admit of any 
rules for conduct; that they would paralyse all ac- 
tion ; and that none bui a fool or a madman could 
be practically influenced by them. Their pernicious 
tendency consists in encouraging inertness and in- 
difference upon subjects which, if real, must be most 
conducive to happiness. They teach to doubt, where 
we ought not to doubt ; — the doctrine of Professor 
Beattie disposes us to act, where we ought not to 
act. It authorizes us to rush forwards, with impe- 
tuosity, according to o\xv feelings; and inspires a 
confidence that our feelings are right, though they 
conduce to our own misery, or to that of others. 
These feelings may be consecrated, and have been 
consecrated, on the altar of religious principles ; so 
that the most servile submission to horrid rites, and 

the 



Common sense. 237 

the most unjust treatment of our fellow-creatures, 
shall be considered as an incumbent duty ! 

Whatever evils our Moralist and his admirers 
may apprehend, from the sceptical principles of 
Mr. Hume, justice demands the acknowledgement, 
that neither this philosopher, nor his disciples, have 
been peculiarly noticed for depravity of manners. 
Many of them have been eminently attentive to 
all the duties of social life, notwithstanding the 
doubts which may have unsettled or embarrassed 
their minds. But every bigot, and every religious 
persecutor upon the face of the earth, has acted 
upon the very principles espoused by our excellent 
Moralist. It was their conscience which enjoined 
the performance of actions the most degrading to 
human nature, and the most destructive of human 
happiness. 

Again : the principles of sceptics must be com- 
paratively circumscribed in their influences. They 
are confined to the few who read and think ; and 
of these few the majority do not understand ; nor 
can the remainder advance beyond unwelcome 
doubts ; they must rest satisfied with the humilia- 
ting conviction, that we know nothing that is worth 
knowing. Whereas the principles of Dr. Beattie 
are expressly adapted to the multitude, whom it ha3 
a tendency to inspire with all the confidence of in- 
fallibility. They Mill be most eagerly embraced by 

the 



2^8 



DOCTRINE OP 



the most io^norant and the most arrogant of the hu- 
man race ; and these are incalculabty numerous. Of 
principles equally erroneous, those which are the 
most active in their nature must be the most dan- 
gerous. The system which leads to nothing is good 
for nothing ; that which professes to direct our prac- 
tice, ought never to lead us astray. 

Exclusive of these differences, which are mani- 
festly to the disadvantage of the Doctor, there is 
a greater similarity between the sentiments of the 
Moralist and the sceptic, than can be acceptable 
to the admirers of the celebrated Essay on Truth. 
They both agree to depreciate reason, and reason- 
ings ; they both agree to substitute feelings in their 
place ; and they both refer to something of an in- 
stinct, as the ultimatum of action. It is true that 
!Mr. Hume denies to reason the power or the right 
to convince us of existences, of energies, and in- 
fluences. We are prohibited from deriving benefit 
by experience ; there can be no solid foundation of 
belief ; no rational faith. Reason cannot establish 
the possibility of a miracle, or of a future state. It 
is true also that Dr. Beattie abhors these notions 
of the sceptic ; but it is a melancholy truth, that 
he seriously advises us to reject our reason, in order 
to reject them : without considering that, as he has 
made feelings the grand, the only principle of con- 
viction, the Sceptic has an equal right with the Pro- 
fessor 



COMMOlSr SEl^SE. ^39 

fessor to trust to his feelings, as the test of truth ; 
and who shall decide between them ? The denial 
of a God, and of a future state, are very unpleasant 
and very dangerous errors ; but they are not so dan- 
gerous as to entertain extravagant notions of the 
service he requires. When sensations v^hich reason 
cannot sanction are proposed as guides to practice, 
they may introduce such a train of ill conduct and 
depraved dispositions, as shall torment mankind in 
this world, and completely disqualify the furious 
zealot for a " kino^dom wherein dwelleth righteous- 
ness," in the next. He must be out of his element, 
where all is peace, harmony, and love. Some other 
region may be much better adapted to his chea'acter, 
where he may be severely disciplined into better 
principles. 

In short : both the Moralist and Piiilosopher at- 
tempt to persuade reason to destroy herself ; and 
they exert all their rational powers to convince 
the world, that our rational powers are not to be 
trusted ! 

Having thus proved that Dr. Beattie's mode of 
opposing the scepticisms of his antagonist is by no 
means satisfactory, I shall, in the next Speculation, 
inquire whether there be any necessity to renounce 
our reason, in order to confute the sceptical prin- 
ciples of Mr. Hume, 



SPECULATION VI. 



ARE THE SCEPTICAL OPINIONS ADVAN- 
CED BY MR. HUME, IN HIS ENQUIRY INTO 
THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, FOUND- 
ED ON THE LEGITIMATE USE, OR THE 
ABUSE, OF REASON ? OR, IS IT NECES- 
SARY TO RENOUNCE OUR REASON, IN 
ORPIIR TO REJECT THEM? 



243 



SPECULATION VI. 

ARE THE SCEPTICAL OPINIONS ADVANCED BY 
MR. HUME, IN HIS ENQUIRY INTO THE HVMAN 
UNDERSTANDING, FOUNDED ON THE LEGITI- 
MATE USE, OR THE ABUSE, OP REASON ? OR, 
IS IT NECESSARY TO RENOUNCE OUR REASON, 
IN ORDER TO REJECT THEM ? 

It is observable that, although Dr. Beattie has 
written so large a work against the dogmata of Mr. 
Hume, he has not given a perspicuous statement of 
the principles on which this philosopher has erected 
his theory. The Doctor's observations on some de- 
tached parts of Mr. Hume's Essay are frequently 
judicious and satisfactory ; such as on the position 
that " belief is nothing but a vivacity of idea that 
" all certainty arises from a comparison of ideas ;" 
that " we are under no necessity to ascribe exist- 
ence to a cause," Bzc. But h^ is compelled to ac- 
knowledge that the leading principles of this shrewd 
reasoner are unanswerable by argument, although 
they shock common Sense. Did his omission and 
his avowal proceed from a conviction, that there 
was a close correspondence between some of the 
sentiments advanced, and his own? Did he feel 

R 2 himself 



244 ON THE METAPHYSICS 

himself compelled to admit the premises of the phi- 
losopher, though he was struck with horror at the 
inferences it was natural to deduce from them ? 
Whatever were the motives, his readers had a right 
to expect such a statement of the principles op- 
posed, with so much earnestness, as to enable them 
to form some judgement of their own, concerning 
the rationality or pernicious tendency of these prin- 
ciples. 

We shall presume, without hesitation, that very 
few of Dr. Beattie's admirers have closely attended 
to the sentiments which their renowned champion 
is so eager to combat, or have had patience to fol- 
low thc' subtle philosopher, in the intricacies of his 
argumentations ; and that they have formed their 
opinions of his philosophy alone, from the slight 
sketches which Dr. Beattie has given of it. On 
the other hand, it is possible that the admirers of 
Mr. Hume may be more pleased with his bold at- 
tack upon the dogmatists of the theological school, 
and with his fascinating manner of writing, than 
with his doctrine ; and more embarrassed, than con- 
vinced, by the subtilties of his reasonings. We shall 
therefore attempt a lucid statement of each, in order 
to enable the disciples of Dr. Beattie to decide, 
whether or not we be under the dire necessity of 
relinquishing our reason, in order to reject the prin- 
ciples which alarm them so much. It is hoped also 

that 



OP MR. Ht^ME. 245 

that the embarrassed admirers of Mr. Hume's phi- 
losophy, who are perhaps as numerous as his disci- 
ples, will perceive that, in proportion as his prin- 
ciples become intelligible, they manifest themselves 
to be irrational. 

I am willing to own, that the task which I have 
imposed upon myself is very difficult. If it was 
tedious and irksome to wade through the positive 
assertions, inaccurate statements, indefinite lan- 
guage, and confused reasoning, which pervade the 
celebrated Essay on Truth ; it will demand still 
greater patience and perseverance, to expose the 
numerous subtilties which pervade every part of the 
Enquiry into the Understanding. 

Perhaps there never was a writer, whose prin- 
ciples are more satisfactory, but whom it is more 
difficult to oppose with success, than tliis philo- 
sopher. His erudition and unaffiscted eloquence 
demand our admiration ; and the embarrassments 
he has thrown in the way of the most revered opi- 
nions, are supported with so much ingenuity, subtil- 
ty, and address, that those who are dissatisfied with 
his sentiments are compelled to respect his talents. 
Whoever attends closely to his mode of writing, 
will, however, perceive that he has the art of com- 
bining the greatest contrarieties in one assemblage. 
He is sometimes profound, sometimes superficial, 
sometimes extremely sceptical, sometimes extreinely 

positive. 



246 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



positive. He obviously delights to exert all the 
povi^ers of his intellects, in order to discover the 
M^eakness of the intellectual faculties ; and he con- 
ducts us through various propositions, which he pro- 
fesses to consider as truths, in order, gradually and 
imperceptibly, to undermine them. He takes the 
liberty of uniting two opposite systems in his cur- 
rent language, — that which he attempts to subvert, 
and the one he wishes to establish ; he talks of us, 
we, men, the experience of mankind, as if he were 
assured that other beings exist as well as himself ; 
yet his grand attempt is to weaken all the arguments 
which support this belief. He seems to acknow- 
ledge the doctrine of cause and effect, at the mo- 
ment he combats every principle most intimately 
connected with it. He frequently retires behind 
ambiguous phraseology, and undefined expressions ; 
and not uiifrequently claims a right to fix ideas to 
words, totally different from the general accepta- 
tion. Hence it is as difficult to contend with such an 
adversary, as it is for regular troops to contend with 
the bush-Jighters of America, who are at one mo- 
ment in one position, and the next in another; 
whose professed discipline consists in concealing 
themselves behind brambles and thorns and other 
interposing bodies, that they may take aim in greater 
security, at forces which disdain to shelter them- 
selves, and yet find it difficult to return the sakte, 

in 



OF MR. HUME. ^ 047 

in consequence of the obscure situation of the foe. 
To follow this philosopher through all the turns and 
windings, is impracticable. It will suffice, if we show 
that his leading principles are erroneous, and that 
the most specious arguments adduced for their sup- 
port, are destitute of solidity. 

In order to give the reader a clear conception of 
tTie dogmata we oppose, it will sometimes be ne- 
cessary to state them to a considerable length, that 
we may avoid misrepresentation, and that the rela- 
tions of part to part may be more conspicuous. 
Although the extracts will be numerous, they may, 
perhaps, be acceptable to my readers. The curio- 
sity of some will be gratified ; and a concice ana- 
lysis of the most important parts of the Enquiry 
concerning the Human Understanding, may render 
the principles it contains more perspicuous than 
they can possibly appear upon a cursory reading. 

Section I. 

Our author commences the Snouiry with an ele- 
gant and interesting dissertation on the different 
classes of philosophers. He observes that " Moral 
philosophy, or the science of human nature^ may be 
treated after two different manners ; the one con- 
siders man as born for action, the other considers 
him in the light of a reasonable rather than an 
active being." As the former relates to hwman 

actions, 



£48 



4)N THE METAPHYSICS 



actions, and as "virtue of all objects is allowed 
to be most valuable, moral philosophers (he says) 
paint her in the most amiable colours. They make 
us Jeel the difference betwixt vice and virtue." — 
" They excite and regulate our sentiments ; and so 
they can but bend our hearts to the love of probity 
and true honour, they think that they have attained 
the end of all their labours." 

" The other species of philosophers regard human 
nature as a subject of speculation, and with a nar- 
row scrutiny examine it, in order to find those j^ri/z- 
ciples which regulate our understandings, excite our 
sentiments, and make us approve or blame any par- 
ticular object, action, or behavior." 

He observes that what he terms " the more easy 
philosophy will always gain the preference among 
mankind ;" that " the most durable as well as justest 
fame has been acquired by it ;" and that abstract 
reasoners have enjoyed only a momentary reputa- 
tion. He acknowledges also that '^it is easy for a 
professed philosopher to commit a mistake in his 
reasoning;" and that ''one mistake is the parent 
of another, &c." — He . adds, " Since the generality 
of mankind prefer the easy philosophy, to the abso- 
lute rejecting of all profound reasoning, or what is 
commonly called metaphysics," he attempts the de- 
fence of this philosophy, by maintaining that " it 
is introductive of greater accuracy in every branch, 

of 



or MR. HUME. 249 

of knowledge," while it " gratifies an innocent cu- 
riosity ;" and although these researches may appear 
painful and fatiguing, vigorous minds will derive 
pleasure from it. " Obscurity," he observes, is 
painful to the mind, as well as to the eye ; but to 
bring light from obscurity, by whatever labour, must 
needs be delightful and rejoycing." 

In answer to the objection, that profound and 
abstract philosophy is inevitably the source of un*- 
certainty and error, he asserts that " these arise 
either from the fruitless efforts of human vanity, 
which would penetrate into subjects utterly inacces- 
sible to the understanding, or from the craft of po- 
pular superstitions, which, being unable to defend 
themselves on fair ground, raise their entangling 
brambles to cover and protect their weakness."— 
Chased from the open country, these robbers fly 
into the forest, and lye in wait to break in upon 
every unguarded avenue of the mind, and overwhelm 
it with religious fears and prejudices." 

But why should philosophers (he asks) leave 
superstition in possession of her retreat? Is it not 
proper to carry the war into the most secret recesses 
of the enemy?" &c. and he maintains that " the 
only method of freeing learning at once from abs^ 
truse questions, is to inquire seriously into the na- 
ture of human understanding ; and show, from an 
exact analysis of its powers and capacities, that it 

is 



^50 ON THE METAPHYSICS 

is by no means fitted for such remote and abstruse 
subjects." — We must cultivate true metaphysics 
with care, in order to destroy the false and adulte- 
rate. Accurate arid just reasoning is the only ca- 
tholic remedy fitted for all persons and all dispo- 
sitions, and is alone able to subvert that abstruse 
philosophy and metaphysical jargon, which, being 
mixed with popular superstition, renders it in a 
manner impenetrable to careless reasoning, and: 
gives it the air of science and wisdom." 

To the objection, that this science is uncertain 
and chimerical, he answers, " there is a truth and 
a falsehood in all propositions on this subject; and 
a truth and a falsehood, which he not beyond the 
compass of human understanding:" and he inti- 
mates that " the object of his inquiry into the hu- 
man understanding is to throw light upon subjects 
from which uncertainty has hitherto deterred the 
wise, and obscurity the ignorant." 

Obsermtio72s. 

When Mr. Hume states that the science of hu^ 
man nature may be treated after two different man- 
ners," the division appears to be perfectly natural. 
But although the two principles may require a di- 
stinct investigation by the philosopher, yet it is ex- 
pected that they should be considered as the con- 
stituent parts of a whole, in order that their reci- 
procal 



OF MR. HUME. 



251 



procal influence^ and conjoined importance, may be 
rendered manifest. Of what use is contemplation, 
unless it be as preparatory for action ? and how can 
rational beings act consistently and advantageously, 
but through the medium of their rationality ? 

This remark would be not only unnecessary, but 
impertinent, were it not the obvious effort of our phi- 
losopher to keep thes^ researches entirely and per- 
petually distinct, and to build his whole system of in- 
credulity and doubts upon the separation. It is tme 
that, in his defence of metaphysics and the abstruser 
sciences, he boasts of their being introductive of 
greater accuracy in every branch of knowledge ; and 
he gives many splendid examples of their utility. 
He awakens also our expectations that his researches 
will be peculiarly serviceable in this respect: but 
the ambiguities which he himself has thrown in the 
way of all science, by the principles he advances, 
and which have this eternal separation for their ob- 
ject, and his subtile manner of supporting them, 
have had a contrary effect. 

Had he made a proper use of his distinguished 
talents, he might have shone like a superior lumi- 
nary, and have thrown masses of light upon the 
greatest obscurities in science ; but he has preferred 
rendering his mental powers subservient to the of- 
fice of a midnight taper, just glimmering to show 
mankind the surrounding darkness. The only pro- 
position 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 

position which his most attentive disciples can dis-* 
cover is, that the whole human race is deplorably 
and invincibly ignorant. He labours assiduously to 
prove by abstruse reasoning, that the human mind 
is not in the least adapted to abstruse subjects ; a 
solecism which can only be rivalled by that of his 
antagonist; who attempts to prove by reasoning that 
reason is not to be trusted. 

i hope to convince his admirers, that their teacher 
has not accomplished his object ; that in his analy- 
sis of the human understanding, he has not disco- 
vered the only catholic remedy against ignorance 
and error ; that, on the contrary, like the empirics 
he so severely censures, he has increased the dis- 
order. I will ask them whether he has not unset- 
tled the principles which they had deemed most ra- 
tional, most sacred, most conducive to human hap- 
piness, and involved them in darkness, in place of 
enabling them to participate of that light, which 
" must needs be delightful and rejoycing?" 

Mr. Hume maintains that there is a truth and a 
falsehood in all propositions. This is a very singu- 
lar assertion, and by no means so intelligible as the 
statement that there is a truth or a falsehood in 
every proposition. Perhaps he may be of Dr. 
Beattie's opinion, that there are truths which re- 
main truths till they are detected to be falsehoods. 

In 



OF MR. riUME. ^53 

In my comments upon this Essay, I shall not at- 
tempt to discover both a truth and a falsehood in 
any one simple proposition, but to detect numerous 
falsehoods in propositions to which he has given the 
semblance of truth. 

Extracts from Section II. 
''Of the Origin of Ideas:' 

• Every man will allow that there is a consider- 
able difference between the perceptions of the mind, 
when a man feels the pain of excessive heat, or the 
pleasure of moderate warmth, and when he after- 
wards recalls to his memory this sensation, or anti- 
cipates it in his imagination. These faculties may 
mimic or copij the perceptions of the senses, but 
they never can reach the force and vivacity of the 
original sentiment. The utmost we say of them, 
even when they operate with greatest rigour, is, that 
they represent their object in so lively a manner^ 
that we could almost say we feel or see it." 

We may observe a like distinction to run through 
all the other perceptions of the mind. A man in 
a fit of anger is actuated in a different manner from 
one who thinks of that emotion. If you tell me 
that any person is in love, I easily understand your 
meaning ; and form a just conception of his situa- 
tion, but never can mistake that conception for the 
real disorders and agitations of the passion. When 

we 



£54 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



we reflect on our past sentiments and affections, our 
thought is a faithful mirror, and copies its objects 
truly; but the colours it employs are faint and dull, 
in comparison of those in which our original per- 
ceptions were clothed." 

" Here therefore we may divide all the percep- 
tions of the mind into two classes or species, which 
are distinguished by their different degrees force 
and "vivacity. The less forcible, are commonly 
called thoughts and ideas." To the otlier species, 
he begs to give the name of impressions ; and he 
attempts to prove that all our ideas or more feeble 
perceptions are copies of our impressions or more 
lively perceptions. " When we analyse our thoughts 
or ideas, however compound or sublime, we always 
find that they resolve themselves into such simple 
ideas as were copies from a preceding feeling and 
sentiment." 

Nothing, at first view, may seem more unbound- 
ed than the thought of man, which not only escapes 
all human power and authority, but is not even re- 
strained within the limits of nature and reality. 
But though our thoughts seem to possess this un- 
bounded liberty, we shall find, upon a nearer exa- 
mination, that it is really confined within very nar- 
row limits, and that all this creative power of the 
mind amounts to no more than compounding, trans- 
posing, augmenting, or diminishing the materials 

afforded 



OF MR. HUME. 



2155 



affored us by the senses and experience. When 
we think of a golden mountain, we only join two 
consistent ideas, gold and mountain, with which 
we were formerly acquainted. A virtuous horse 
we can conceive; because, from oar own feelings 
we can conceive virtue, and this we may unite to 
the figure and shape of a horse, which is an ani- 
mal familiar to us. The idea of God, as meaning 
an infinitely intelligent, wise, and good being, arises 
from the operations of our own minds, and aug- 
menting without limits those qualities of goodness 
and wisdom." 

If it happen, from a defect of the organ, that 
a man is not susceptible of any species of sensation, 
we always find that he is as little susceptible of the 
correspondent ideas. A blind man can form no 
notion of colours, a deaf man of sounds. The 
case is the same if the object proper for exciting 
any sensation, have never been applied to the or- 
gan. A Laplander or a Negro has no notion of 
the relish of wine, &c." 

Obsermtions. 

1. The above theory divides all the perceptions 
of the mind into two classes, impressions and copies 
from them. This division is perfectly arbitrary, and 
ought to have been vindicated as the most pertinent 
and philosophical, before it was laid as the basis of 

his 



^56 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



his system. If these impressions should originate 
from the intluence of eMernal objects, so important ^ 
a fact ought to have been acknowledged ; a prior 
source exists, which ought to have been received as 
a foundation, in place of these impressions. If 
t'nese do 720t proceed from external causes, then is 
it peculiarly incumbent upon one who will receive 
nothing from others without demonstrative proofs, 
to give some account of the origin of these impres- 
sions. Whence are they derived ? How is the phas- 
nomenon of their existence to be explained ? He 
that is impressed, must be impressed by some other, 
or be able to impress himself. On the hrst suppo- 
sition a foreign cause must exist, which should have 
been acknowledged, and of " which some philoso- 
phical account should have been given. If there 
be no external cause, then the subject being left to 
impress himself, we will ask. Is this a xioluntary or 
an imoJimtari/ act every time it is performed ? If 
"voluntarxj^ is not every conscious being perfect mas^- 
ter of his own destiny ? Can he not impress him- 
self when he pleases, and as he pleases, and must 
he not be an idiot not to render himself completely 
happy? If inmluntarijy and there be no foreign 
cause, these impressions must start into existence 
of themselves. Thus is the whole hypothesis in ex- 
treme danger of being suffocated, between two ab- 
surdities, at its birth ! If such extravagances be al- 
lowed. 



Of MR. HUME. 257 

lowed, we must also allow that the jocular excla- 
mation of Trincitlo in the Tempest, is founded on 
sound philosophical principles, "This is the tune 
of our catch, played by the picture of nobody!" 

Mr. Hume has manifestly advanced this doctrine 
of impressions, in order to account for the origin of 
our ideas, independent of a material world. The 
Impressed has only to be conscious that he is im- 
pressed, and that the impressions will soften down 
into ideas and thoughts, and his whole character is 
formed, without the aid of intermediates. But if 
our impressions acknowledge a foreign cause, in- 
stead of constituting the whole of man, they dege- 
nerate into mere conveyancers from without; the 
reporters of what has happened in the streets, in 
the temple, in tlie senate, in the army, in the mul- 
titudinous affairs of life ; and this favourite magic 
lantern is shivered into pieces ! 

But to examine the theory more closely. 

Mr. Hume considers it to be indubitable, that 
the ideas recalled by memory or anticipation, mimic 
or copy its objects truly, or reflect them as from a 
mirror; the only difference is, that the colours are 
more faint; they are solely distinguished by their 
different degrees of force and vivacity." 

This doctrine is also advanced without the shadow 
of a proof ; and numerous are the proofs, that it is 
not only erroneous, but absurd. This assertion will 

s appear 



258 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



appear evident to those of my readers, who may 
approve of what has been ah^eady advanced, re- 
specting our ignorance of the proximate cause of 
memory ^^ A very little attention must convince 
every man, that ideas and thoughts cannot possibly 
be mimics, copies, or fainter colourings of primi- 
tive impressions, as is assumed by this writer. If 
they were, they must perfectlif resemble their ori- 
ginal in every respect. He has directed our whole 
attention to objects of Sight alone, as these seem 
to be most favourable to his theory ; but if it be 
true from visual perceptions, it must be equally true 
of the thoughts and ideas derived from the other 
senses. If colours be the same, only fainter, the 
sensations of bitter and sweet, sensations from sounds, 
from pleasure and pain, must be perfectly similar, 
only in a less degree. No man could speak of love, 
without being somewhat in love ; nor recollect that 
he has been in a violent passion, without feeling 
again the sensations of anger. Y/hen I recollect 
an}^ sentiment from an ancient or a foreign author, 
and communicate it to my friend, in the English 
language, can this be an accurate copy, or a fainter 
resemblance of the original ? Does it not elude gdl 
those primitive impressions, through the medium of 
which the ideas were received? It m.ay be a faith- 
ful narrative, but cannot be a transcript. Even the 

* See Spec. I. § Memory -j and also Note A. 

strong 



OF MR. HUME. ^59 

strong impressions made upon our optics, which 
are the only organs to which the notion of a copy 
is in the least applicable, are not copies. They 
convev ideas to the mind, enrich its stores, set its 
imagination at work ; but they cannot have left a 
print of themselves, in the manner asserted. We 
are charmed with a romantic or luxuriant prospect; 
but we cannot recollect,, with that accuracy which 
this system demands, the precise objects with which 
the scenery was enriched. When I read the name 
of a city which I have not seen ; Vienna, Moscow, 
Pekinin China, for example; the imagination builds 
a city after its own manner, totally unlike the ori- 
ginal. It uses those very materials which this phi- 
losopher considers as exact resemblances of other 
cities. It must be confessed that these fainter ma- 
terials have been wonderfully decomposed in the 
mind, since they are ready for the building of a 
new imaginary town v. ith them in an instant. Here 
then are two ph^enomena, which demand an expla- 
nation. How come I to build a citij in thought, 
the moment I read the Xfords Vienna, Moscow, 
Pekin, inscribed upon paper? I ought to expect 
nothincj more than a miniature word, and a fainter 
ink. The Si^ht of a word ought not to build a town : 
and when I borrow materials from former impres- 
sions, what provision does ^Ir. Hume's system make 
for their decomposition, since the fainter copy is' to 

S 2t remain 



^60 ON THE METAPHYSICS 

remain entire, every time we recollect the impres- 
sion ? 

It is readily admitted, that at particular times, 
and under particular circumstances, after we have 
been looking at objects peculiarly vivid and bright, 
phantoms and mimic impressions appear before us. 
Spectres present themselves upon our closing the 
eyes ; and in febrile affections, curious figures and 
wonderful shapes, not unfrequently disturb or amuse 
the patient. But such cases confute, instead of 
confirming, the hypothesis. These appearances are 
the most frequent upon the weakest organs, and in 
incipient disorders of the brain. They present them- 
selves, not only without any efforts of the memory, 
but in opposition to the will of the subject; nor has 
he the least command over them. How different 
are the thoughts and ideas of Recollection from these 
appearances ! Which could not be the case were the 
hypothesis true. The only diffei'ence would be, 
that thoughts would in every respect be more accu- 
rate, and the figures remain as long as we cljose to 
reflect upon them. 

If it be so difficult to explain these optical phe- 
nomena, what will he say respecting impressions 
derived from the other senses ? After a disciple of 
Mr. Hume has heard a noise in the street, is he 
conscious of an echo every time he remembers it ? 
Should a bon "vivant have regaled himself with co- 
pious 



OF MR. HUME. 



pious draughts of Burgundy, when in France, — will 
he every time he recollects his good fortune, rejoice 
that he has brought home with him a dehcate fla- 
vour in his mouth? When we reflect upon a mu- 
sical performance which gave us peculiar pleasure^ 
do we enjoy a lesser degree of satisfaction at the re- 
membrance, by putting into fainter movements those 
undulations of air, vvhich vibrated upon our acoustic 
nerves during the concert ? Or should any one be 
most painfully scorched by being too near a con- 
flagration, will this vivid impression hereafter sub- 
side into moderate warmth, and make him com- 
fortable during the remainder of his days, by the 
easy expedient of recollecting the event? 

But were we to admit his hypothesis to be true, 
our philosopher would find it extremely difficult ta 
solve innumerable phaenomena of the human Mind 
upon its principles. By the terms copies, mimics, 
mirrors, fainter colours, he unquestionably designed 
that some determinate ideas should be formed con- 
cerning these results from impressions, and that they 
should have a strong resemblance to the original. 
Let us keep this resemblance steadfastly in view, 
and inquire into the qualification of these n}imic 
thoughts or ideas, to generate other thoughts or 
ideas, of an abstract nature. 

Since we are to divide all the perceptions of the 
cgind into two classes, which are only diotiuguished 

by 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



by their different degrees of force and vivacity, let 
the philosopher inform us by what power it is that 
we are able to produce a new series of thoughts ? 
Are these to be copies or mimics of such ideas, as 
they were of the primitive impressions ? By what pro- 
cess are w^e, from these materials, to generate even 
the monsters to which he refers ? TVho^ or what, is 
engaged in this process? Is it the principle called 
Mind? Then is the mind the generator of new 
thoughts, which cannot be the descendants from 
primitive impressions, but they must derive their 
immediate origin from ^vithin ; which will prevent 
our dividing all perceptions of the mind into t^vo 
classes, or the immediate derivation of all thoughts, 
without exception, from previous impressions. When 
this mind, to quote the example he gives, con-, 
ceives of a golden mountain, it takes up the mimic 
or copy of gold, which it joins to the mimic or co- 
py of a mountain ; and these two mimics being 
thus copulated, produce a third mimic of a moun- 
tain of gold ! It takes the mimic of a horse, and 
joining this to the mimic of a virtuous action, cre- 
ates at once the mimic of a virtuous horse ! How 
we can conceive of virtue by mere impressions, 
without having seen virtuous actions performed, is 
not explained : neither are we made acquainted 
with the shape, colour, or size of this mimic virtue, 
as taken from the original impression ! 

He 



OF MR. HUME. 



He further sa^^s, that the idea of God, as 
meaning an infinitely intelligent, wise, and good 
Being, arises from reflecting on the operations of 
our own minds; and augmenting, without limits, 
these qualities of goodness and wisdom. This is 
true : but do his principles explain or elucidate 
those adinirable powers of the mind, which are 
equal to such operations.? Admitting all its infor- 
mation to be derived, according to the hypothesis, 
from impressions, and copies of impressions, yet are 
we to deem the mind capable of selecting and sepa- 
rating all the copies, mimics, and mirrors of wis- 
dom and goodness within us, from those of the op- 
posite character, of magnifying them to an infinite 
extent, and of thus creating a mimic of a perfect 
Being? But this mind professes to ascribe spiritu- 
ality to a divine being also. Have there been any 
primitive impressions concerning the existence of 
Spirit, capable of bringing forth a copy or a mimic, 
or a mirror, or faint colouring of a Spirit? 

Some attention should have been paid to objec- 
tions of this kind, before such crude notions had 
been presented to us, in so confident and familiar a 
manner, as if they were self-evident, or as if in- 
fallibility were inscribed on their foreheads. 

All that we know of this intricate subject is, that 
external objects affect the mind through the medium 
of the senses ; and we possess a consciousness of 

thought' 



£64 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



thought. Every new perception gives ns clear ideas 
of the thing perceived. Information is thus con- 
veyed to the mind that things exist, possessing cer- 
tain characters and properties. But this informa- 
tion is as remote from resemblance^ as the tidings 
of a murder having been committed, are from tl e 
sight of a mangled corpse ; or as the telegraphic news 
of the capture of a man-of-war, is from the vessel, 
the crew, the guns, thunder, flames, and smoke, and 
confusion of the engagement. The primary im- 
pressions can only be considered as notifications of 
existent objects, diversified according to the diversi- 
ties in the objects. Thoughts thus suggested by 
things external, become the occasions of other 
thoughts also, to an infinite extent ; but in xi'hat 
manner such wonderful efiects are produced ; how 
this wonderful process is carried on, who can ex- 
plain.^ Every attempt hitherto made, degenerate^j 
into an unsatisfactory metaphor, having a very im- 
perfect, and a very trivial relation to the subject ; 
and when extended beyond its limits, lays itself 
open to complete confutation*. 

Mr. Hume has acknowledged, that on a defect 
of organ, a man is not susceptible of the ideas 
which correspond with the species ot sensation be- 
longing to that organ ; or if the objects proper for 
exciting any sensation have never been applied to 

* See Note A. 

the 



OF MR. HUME. 



the organ, tlie case is the same. These conces- 
sions, made by an ordinary genius, would be con- 
sidered as a confutation of the ideal system. If 
impressions were independent of things external, 
the blind and the deaf could find no impediment to 
their still experiencing the impression of colour and 
sound. But it is obvious, that in making these 
concessions, which were of some service to the ar- 
gument immediately before him, he was speaking 
after the manner of men, usino- common ideas as a 
scaffold, by wdnch to erect his theory; and then, 
like- a scaffold, they are to be assiduously removed. 

Section III. 

On tlie Association of Ideas'' 

Our speculator remarks, that " there is a princi- 
ple of connection between the different thoughts and 
ideas of the mind ; and that, in their appearance to 
the memory or imagination, they introduce each 
other with a certain degree of method and regula- 
rity." 

" To me there appear to be only three princi- 
ples of connection among ideas ; namely, the sem- 
blance, contiguity, in time and place, and cause and 
effect."—" A picture naturally leads our thoughts 
to the original." This is illustrative of the con- 
nexion from resemblance. — " The mention of one 

apart- 



266 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



apartment, naturally introduces a discourse con- 
cerning others." — (Continuity.) — " If we think of 
a wound, we can scarcely forbear reflecting on the 
pain which follows.'' This illustrates cause and 
effect. 

We shall not detain the reader upon this sec- 
tion, in which nothing appears very exceptionable ; 
we shall only remark, that causation is here admitted 
to be one of the associating links in our recollections. 

Section IV. 
" Sceptical Doubts.'' 

The philosopher having laid down his grand 
principles in the second section, proceeds to a the- 
oretic investigation of their modus operandi, in the 
two opposite offices of enstamping irresistible con- 
victions, and of exciting incessant doubts. 

" All the objects of human reason or inquiry 
may naturally be divided into two kinds ; to wit, 
relation of ideas and matters of fact. Of the first 
kind are the sciences of Geometry, Algebra, or 
Arithmetic, and in short every affirmation which is 
either intuifvoely , or demonstrativeli/ certain." &c. 

He adds, propositions of this kind are disco- 
verable by the mere operations of thought, mthout 
dependance on what is any where existent in the uni- 
verse. Though there never were a circle or a tri- 
angle 



OF MR. HUME. 



257 



angle in nature, the truths demonstrated by Euclid 
would for ever retain their certainty and evidence." 

Matters of fact, Vvhich are the second objects 
of human reason, are not ascertained in the same 
manner ; nor is our evidence of their truth, how- 
ever great, of a like nature with the foregoing. The 
contrary of every matter of fact is still possible ; 
because it can never imply a contradiction ; and is 
conceived by the mind with the same facility and 
distinctness as if ever so conformable to reality." 
" That the sun will not rise to-morrow is no less 
intelligible a proposition,- and implies no more a 
contradiction, than the affirmative that it xdll rise. 
We should in vain, therefore, attempt to demon- 
strate its falsehood. Were it demonstrably false, 
it would imply a contradiction, and could never be 
distinctly conceived by the mind." 

Observations. 

In the above statements, it is obvious that our 
philosopher has placed his favourite doctrine of 
impressions, with their correspondent thoughts and 
ideas, upon a level with mathematical evidence, 
which admits of no doubts : and he represents both 
as being totally independent of whatever may exist 
in the universe. W^hereas what he terms matters 
of fact, not being equally ye//^, or equally open to 
demonstration, cannot be equally certain ; and if 

they 



268 



ON THE METi^PHYSICS 



they be not equally certain, there is, in every case, 
a possibility to the contrary ; and this - possibility 
being attached to every species of fact, there will 
.always remain a degree of uncertainty, in a philo- 
sophic mind, whether or not it be a reality, which 
no evidence short of demonstration is sufficiently 
potent to remove. 

Since it is the professed design of this Essay to 
establish a sect of doubters, I shall acknowledge 
myself so far a convert, as to claim the right of 
doubting the truth or accuracy of every principle 
advanced. This cannot be denied me; for, as it is 
maintained that the contrary to every matter of 
fact may be false, we certainly may entertain suspi- 
cions concerning assertions and statements, which 
are simply proposed as problematical ! Our philo- 
sopher will not say that all his eccentric specula- 
tions are matters of fact ; and if they were, still 
they may not be true. Thus has he two difficul- 
ties to surmount, which lie at the very threshold of 
his philosophy. 

I do imagine, in opposition to the principles ad- 
vanced, that our convictions concerning matters of 
fact are prior to these relations of ideas ; and that 
both impressions and demonstrative evidence are 
founded upon them. 

My reasons are the following : 

I must mst before I receive impressions. My 

exigtence 



OF MR. HUME. 26^ 

existence therefore must be a matter of fact, which 
no one can dispute, and it must claim a priority to 
impressions. Our philosopher will not surely push 
his principles so far as to assert, that the w^hole of 
existence consists of conscious impressions. This 
would people the world at too easy a rate ; for every 
distinct impression, being connected with a distinct 
consciousness, my own individual existences will 
become infinitely more numerous than the gnats 
that meander over a stagnant lake ! If this should 
appear too absurd for extravagance itself to admit, 
the existence of a being susceptible of conscious 
impressions must be admitted ; and a matter of fact 
must be prior to the relation of ideas, and be the 
occasional cause of them. 

I doubt also the truth of the position, that though 
there never was a circle or trians^le in nature, the 
truths, demonstrated by Euclid, would for ever re- 
tain their certainty and evidence. I maintain that 
the mathematical science is also founded upon a 
principle prior to itself. If nothing existed, there 
would be nothing to demonstrate. It presupposes 
e.vistences. It is solely engaged in the discoveri/ of 
relations subsisting between them. The profoundest 
mathematician never undertook to prove the eiist- 
ence of an individual line, straight or curved, or dot, 
or angle, or circle, but to show the connexion and 
relation of tliese in certain problems : and when he 

ha3 



270 ON THE METAPHYSICS 

has demonstrated that they belong to a particular 
problem exclusively, he has accomplished the whole 
of his task. Thus is the evidence of peixeptioji 
prior to that of demonstra^tion. Perception implies 
that there is something to be perceived, and some- 
thing external ; otherwise Mr. Hume's man of im- 
pressions must become his own insulated geometri- 
cian, amusing himself with the lines and circles and 
triangles of his own brain. Yet will he find it dif- 
ficult to account for their existence there, even upon 
his own principles. He may dispute with himself, 
whether the idea of a simple line or a dot be really 
an idea or an impression. It is surely too faint for 
an impression ; and yet how did it arise in his mind 
without one* ? 

I more than doubt also, whether, as there is much 
ambiguity, there be not great absurdity, in the po- 
sition, that the contrary of every matter of fact is 
still possible. I might observe that, as Mr. Hume 
professes himself to be a Necessarian, he is com- 
pelled to deny the assertion. Indeed he has posi- 
tively denied it, in the section on Necessity.— But 
to proceed upon another ground. I maintain that 
the position itself is no other than a bold assump- 
tion, and an erroneous assumption. Our reasoner 
is now guilty of an error similar to the one we de- 
tected in Dr. Beattie's doctrine of tixith, where he 
* For a further illustration of this subject, see Spec. I. § vii. 

mistakes 



OF MR. HUME. 271 

mistakes our oxen conceptions of things, for the ixal 
state of things. We are often disposed to believe 
that a thing is possible, until we become acquainted 
with its impossibility ; and then we acknowledge 
our error. According to this system, the same thing 
may be possible and impossible at the same time. 
For, though it may appear very possible to one per- 
son, who knows nothing of the matter; another, 
who is better informed, may know it to be impos- 
sible, and who may clearly perceive an absurdity or 
a contradiction in the position. Ignorance is stated 
to be the mother of devotion, in the church of 
Rome, and she may thus become the mother of 
truths, in the philosophic world ; and if every thing 
may be a truth till we know the contrary, the greatest 
degree of ignorance will become the most prolific 
mother of truths. The contrary of every matter of 
fact may appear possible to a mind not duly in- 
formed about it : but when we become master of 
every circumstance relating to it, the Appearance 
vanishes, and we shall be convinced that its con- 
trary was an Impossibility. That the sun zviil not 
rise to-morrow^ is as intelligible, as a proposition, as 
the affirmative that it zcill rise. But these proposi- 
tions prove nothing, excepting our own Opinions ; 
and their being intelligible as propositions affords 
no arguments that they are facts \ and yet Mr. 
Hume has sagely confounded the one with the other. 

Did 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



Did we know the laws of creation, and upon what 
system of nature the rising or a setting of the sun 
depends, we might discover that our expectations 
of its not rising to-morrow, would be in direct con- 
tradiction to those laws which will compel it to rise 
to-morrow. 1 may, if I please, assert that the three 
angles of a triangle are not equal to two right ones. 
This is as intelligible a Proposition as its opposite ; 
but its being equally intelligible does not make it 
equally true. The reason why we can demonstrate 
in some cases, and not in others, is, that we are not 
equally prepared. We know not every circumstance 
relative to the proposition ; which is the grand privi- 
lege of the mathematician. Were he deprived of a 
single line, dot, or letter, in an extensive and com- 
plicated problem, he would inevitably fail in the at- 
tempt ; and some bold sceptic, taking advantage of 
this ignorance, might pronounce that there is no 
certaipty in mathematics ! 

Thus it appears, upon a close inspection, that the 
two leading propositions in this new philosophy are 
without foundation. Thoughts and ideas bear no 
marks of their being the mimics or copies of impres- 
sions ; nor is a conscious impression or a mathe- 
matic demonstration independent of a matter of fact. 
They both presuppose them, and are both founded 
upon them. 



Sec- 



OF MR. HUME. 



273 



Section IV. 

Sceptical Doubts (continued). 

Our author proceeds to inquire, professedly as a 
feubject of mere curiosity, ''What is the nature of that 
evidence which assures us of any real existence and 
matter of fact, beyond the present testimony of 
our senses, or the records of our memory?" 

" All reasonings (he says) concerning matter of 
fact, seem to be founded on the relation of cause 
and effect. By means of that relation alone we can 
go beyond the evidence of our memory and senses." 

He next proposes the inquiry how we arrive at 
the knowledge of cause and effect, maintaining that 
it is not attained, in any instance, by reasoning a 
priori; and he advances it as an indisputable pro- 
position, " that causes and effects are discoverable^ 
not by reason, but by eiperience'' 

"Were any object presented to us, and were we 
required to pronounce concerning the effect, which 
will result from it, without consulting past observa- 
tion, the mind must invent or imagine some event, 
w^hich it ascribes to the object as its effect; and it 
is plain that this invention must be entirely arbi- 
trary. The mind can never possibly find the ef- 
fect in the supposed cause, by the most accurate 
scrutiny and examination. For the effect is diffe- 
rent from the cause, and consequently can never be 

T disco- 



9,74 ON THE METAPHYSICS 

discovered in it. Motion in the second billiard ball 
is a quite distinct event from the motion in the 
first," &c. 

As the first imagination or invention of a par- 
ticular effect, in all natural operations, is arbitrary, 
where we consult not experience, so must vve also 
esteem the supposed tie or connexion between the 
cause and effect, which binds them together, and 
renders it impossible that any other effect could re- 
sult from the operation of that cause. When I see 
a billiard ball rnovino; in a straii^ht line towards an- 
other, even suppose motion in the second ball should 
by accident be suggested to me, as the result of their 
contact or impulse, may I not conceive that a hun- 
dred difierent events might as well follow?" &c. 

This mode of abstract reasoning he pursues to a 
considerable length, until he arrives at the following 
questions : 

When it is asked, What is the nature of all 
our reasonings concerning matters of fact ? the 
proper answer seems to be, that they are founded 
on the relations of cause and effect. When again 
it is asked, What is the foundation of all our rea- 
sonings and conclusions concerning that relation ? 
it may be replied in one word, Experience. But 
if we still carry on our shifting humour, and ask, 
What is the foundation of all conclusions from ex- 
perience ? this implies a new question, which may 

be 



OF MR. HUME. 275 

be of more difficult solution. Philosophers that give 
themselves airs of superior wisdom and sufficiency 
have a hard task, when they encounter persons of 
inquisitive dispositions, xvho push them from every 
corner, and zvho are sure at last to bring them to 
some dangerous dilemma,''' &c. 

From a sceptical philosopher, Mr. Hume now 
assumes the dogmatist, in his answer to the last 
query. " I say then, that even when we have expe- 
rience of the operations of cause and elfect, our con- 
clusions from that experience are NOT founded on 
reasoning, or any process of the understanding.'' 

In defence of this position, he observes that 
nature has kept us at a great distance from all her 
secrets, and has afforded us only the knowledge of 
a few superficial qualities of objects ; while she 
conceals from us those powers and principles, on 
which the influence of these objects entirely depends. 
Our senses inform us of the colour, weight, and 
consistence of bread ; bat neither sense nor reason 
can inform us of those qualities which fit it for the 
nourishment and support of the human body," &c. 
He proceeds, 

" But notwithstandino; this io;norance of natural 
powders and principles, we always presume, when 
Ave see like sensible qualities, that they have like 
secret powers, and expect that effects similar to 
those which we have experienced, will follow from 

t2 them." 



276 ON THE METAPHYSICS 

tiiem." But he wishes to know the foundation of 
this process. It is allowed on all hands (he as- 
serts) that there is no known connexion between 
the sensible qualities and the secret powers ; and 
consequently that the mind is not led to form such 
a conclusion concerning their constant and regular 
conjunction, by any thing which is known of their 
nature. As to past experience, it can be allowed to 
give dii^ect and certain information of those precise 
objects only, and that precise period of time, which 
fell under its cognisance. But why should past ex- 
perience be extended to future times,^ and to other 
objects, which, for aught we know, may be only in 
appeai'ance similar?'' &c. &c. He adds, ^' These 
two propositions are far from being the same,— J 
have found that an object has ahvays been attended 
with such an effect ; and / foresee^ that other ob- 
jects^ which are in appearance similar, will be at- 
tended with similar effects. I shall allow, if you 
please, that one proposition may justly be inferred 
fr£)m the other ; I know, in fact, that it is always 
inferred. But if you insist that the inference is made. 
by a chain of reasoning, I desire you to produce that 
reasoning. The connexion between these proposi- 
tions is not intuitive. There is required a medium 
which may enable the mind- to draw such an infe- 
rence. What that medium is, I must confess, passes 
my comprehension," &c. 

Thb 



or MR. HUME. 9.11 

This mode of argumentation is diffusely carried 
through many pages, but not with an augmented 
force ; and upon the strength of it, he asserts that 
*^if there be any suspicion that the course of na- 
ture may change, and that the past be no rule for 
the future, all experience becomes useless, and can 
give rise to no inference or conclusion," &c. &c. 

The reader will excuse the length of these quota- 
tions. Justice to the author s arguments and our 
own rendered it necessary. 

The above extracts contain the following posi- 
tions : 

We know nothing a priori. 
In every eflect we remain totally ignorant of the 
cause. 

Our conclusions from experience are not found- 
ed on reasonings, or any process of the under- 
standing. 

We are not authorized, by an}^ principle of rea- 
son^ to infer that the information obtained by past 
experience, can be extended to future times or to 
other objects. 

Observations. 

It would have been unnecessary for our philo- 
sopher to take so much pains to prove, in the pre- 
sent day, that we know nothing a priori, had he 
not a particular object in view : it is in order to 

give 



278 ON THE METAPHYSICS 

give a degree of consistency and force to the insi- 
nuation, that unless we know the nature and essences 
of things, which is implied in knowledge a priotn, 
we cannot be certain as to their operations. It 
may be dangerous to. eat bread to-rnorrow^, although 
it may have nourished us without intermission these 
twenty years. Nor are we fully authorized to ex- 
pect that ''a lion or tiger will prefer animal food 
to-day, because it pleased his palate yesterday." 

If our Sceptic were not sporting with his readers, 
this hypothesis would have a most alarming aspect : 
it would threaten desolation like an universal de- 
luge. For we know not the nature or essence of 
any existent being, animate or inanimate, material 
or spiritual : and if this knowledge be a prerequi- 
site, if our ignorance renders their operations du- 
bious, we may all be sw^ept off the stage of existence 
in the twinkling of an eye. Nor is our philosopher 
himself secure, unless he can explain, a priori, the 
nature and essence of that very being who receives 
impressions productive of mimic thoughts. Unless 
he can demonstrate, a priori, the truth of his sy- 
stem, he is chargeable with gross inconsistency in 
believing it himself, and no sniall degree of imperti- 
nence in imposing it upon others. According to 
these notions, no man can live with security, unless 
he knows in what vitality consists ; nor breathe the 
vital air, unless he be acquainted with the manner 



OF MR. HUME. j279 

in which it supports life. " Every effect (he says) 
is different from the cause, and consequently can 
never be discovered in it." This arojument would 
be applicable to those who should pretend to know, 
a priori, what would be the modus operandi of some 
principle, totally new and inexperienced, but not to 
the principles with which we are familiar. The ef^ 
feet being different from its cause, is no argument 
that it cannot be produced by it. A house is essen- 
tially different from the builder, and from the ma- 
terials with which it is built, yet it is the result of 
united causes. A peach, in shape, size, and flavour, 
is very different from the seed from which it was 
produced ; but we shall not reject the peach as desti- 
tute of flavour, from our ignorance of the arcana of 
its growth. In short, if Mr. Hume intended to 
confine this assertion to the mode of reasoning h 
pynori, it is an unnecessary expense of argument. If 
he meant surreptitiously to introduce the position, 
that unless we know the ultimate cause, we cannot 
predicate any effect, the position is as absurd as 
the attempt is insidious. Will he say, that when a 
man is shot through the head, by a bullet discharged 
from a pistol, the head being different from the bul- 
let, the cause of his death cannot be discovered, 
simply by his having his brains blown out ? Since 
he has asserted that a similar event may not take 

place 



280 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



place in the future, from any thing which looks like 
a similar cause, those who acquiesce in his mode 
of reasoning, may add considerabie strength to 
it, and multiply the improbabilities of a man's 
being destroyed by a pistol-shot. As the head is 
different from the bullet, so is the gun- powder dif- 
ferent from both ; the pistol is different from the 
other three, and the hand which fired it off, differe r 
from the four, &c. &c. Now, as the arcana oi 
each must be known, before we can be certain whe- 
ther a similar event will take place, upon a similar 
occasion, the object aimed at will have numerous 
chances for his life, in spite of the imminent danger. 

A mere child in reasoning, if he will be attentive 
for a moment, w ill perceive that the author has 
confounded two things, which are very distinct, the 
knowledge of the arcana of existence, with a know- 
ledge of the operative poxvers or properties of ex- 
istent substances. Of the former we know nothing, 
of the latter we know much. The knowledge of 
Essences might gratify philosophical curiosity ; but 
unless it qualified men to create miniature worlds, 
it would be entirely useless. The knowledge of 
properties is of infinite rpoment: for in numberless 
cases they operate upon us; in numberless cases 
w^e can direct them to our advantage ; and if it be 
not lawful to infer, th^t whatever has properties 

must 



OF MR. HUME. 



281 



tYiust have an existence, and whatever lias an ex- 
istence must have properties, we may relinquish 
our reason altogether. 

In support of his principles, Mr. Hume asserts, 
that it is allowed, on all hands, that there is no 
knoxtn connexion between the sensible qualities of 
bread, and the secret powers of nutrition ; and 
consequently, the mind is not led to form a conclu- 
sion, concerning the constant and regular conjunc- 
tion between eating bread, and being nomished by 
jt, I)y any thing which is known of their nature. 

This position, which he adduces as an unan- 
swerable argument, is indefinite, ambiguous^ and 
erroneous. One absolute sense is affixed to terms, 
which are susceptible of different significations. 
He has shrewdly selected that which answers his 
purpose the best, to the omission of those which 
would shake his hypothesis to the foundation. It 
is not allowed, on all hands, that there is no known 
connexion between the sensible qualities of bread 
and its nutritious powers ; on the contrary, it is 
known, on all. hands, that there is a connexion, an 
intimate, inseparable connexion, between the one 
and the other. Bread would no longer be bread, 
should it cease to be nutritious, to the race of beings 
who have been nourished by it ; or their natures 
must be totally changed, not to be nourished by it 
any longer. But the lazes by wliich the§e secret 

powers 



282 



OJf THE METAPHYSICS 



powers of nutrition, that inward nature by which 
they are so wonderfully adapted to the human con- 
stitution, may never be known. Thus has our so- 
phist, M'ith more dexterity than ingenuous ai'gu- 
mentation will permit, inferred that our ignorance 
of the arcana of nature destroys our knowledge of 
existing properties. To apply this language to the 
common concerns of life, would be an immediate 
dejtection of its fallacy. Were any one to say, It is 
allowed, on ail hands, that there is no known con- 
nexion between the inward construction of a watch, 
and the index which points the hour — would he not 
be corrected in his mode of expression, by the as- 
sertion, that we do know that a connexion subsists; 
but, as we are not watchmakers, we know not by 
what laws, or in what manner, the effect is pro- 
duced : we are certain of the fact, but we cannot 
ti'ace the operations of the inward wheels, springs, 
regulators, &c. on the external index. 

The word Nature, in the passage quoted above, 
is equally ambiguous. Applied to arcana and es- 
sences, we do not know the nature of things ; ap- 
plied to properties and powers of acting, we do. 
We know that it is in the nature of fire to consume 
combustible substances, though we may not know 
the laws of ignition, or why it should rapidly con- 
sume wood, and not mineral substances. Our 
concern is with properties. Essences belong not to 
man. 



OF MR. HUME. 



283 



The professed Sceptic assumes a dogmatic tone^- 
when he so strenuously asserts, that after we have 
experienced the operations of cause and effect, our 
conclusions from that experience are not founded 
on reasoning, or any process of the understanding; 
and he challenges the philosophic world to produce 
a Medium which may enable the mind to draw 
such an inference. 

I shall first remark, that the challenge is ex- 
pressed in such unphilosophic terms, as to contain 
an obvious inconsistency. Can a conclusion be 
drawn from any premises, without some process of 
the understanding ? Let a conclusion or inference 
be ever so erroneous or absurd, still to infer, or to 
conclude, from certain data, must be an immediate 
act of the reasoning powers. Had he asserted that 
the mind is totally incapable of drawing an in- 
ference from experience, that it is not furnished 
with powers for the office, the assertion would have 
been consistent with itself, though contrary to fact. 
Had he asserted, that the mind cannot possibly draw 
a satisfactory inference, the assertion would have 
been intelligible, if erroneous : but this unqualified 
language renders it incumbent upon our logician to 
show, when the mind does draw an inference, what 
other means does it use, exclusive of the reasoning 
powers, or some process of the understanding? 

We may observe, that the manner in which this 

assertion 



£84 



ON TB£ METAPHYSICS 



assertion is rnade^ conveys a tacit acknowledge- 
ment that external beings exist, and are perpe- 
tually exerting their influence. It is their agency 
alone which can create experience. He has no right 
to admit of impressions every moment, and then 
destroy the signet. We may observe, therefore, 
that if he had attended to the meaning; of the word 
Ei'perknce, he would have found a complete an-- 
swer, couched under his own statement of the posi- 
tion. What are we to understand by experience ? 
Has it not an indubitable relation to fact ? Does 
ft not unequivocally express the influence of facts 
upon individuals, by which their state is changed 
in point of knowledge, opinions, desires, modes of 
living, motives of acting, &c. &c. ? If these facts 
do not originate from our own impressions and 
ideas, they acknowledge an external cause. If 
they originate from our own independent, uncon- 
nected Selves, then is the individual rendered si- 
milar to a single drop of oil in water, which will 
neither mix with that element, nor with his fellow- 
drop; or, he is, if you please, a bubble on a lake, 
that swells and bursts, and sinks into oblivion, un- 
noticed by his brother bubble ; if a brother bubble 
should chance to exist. Unless this nonsense be 
a philosophical truth, there must be external ex- 
istences, to which we give the names of bod}^, subr 
stance, spirit, principle, &c. We know of their 

exisstencQ 



OF MR. HUME. 285 

existence by tlie discernment of the properties be- 
londns to them. We distinguisli one substance 
from another b}^ their possessing distinct properties. 
These cannot be known a priori, but they are well 
known by observation and experience, and legiti- 
mate deductions from them. By these we know as 
certainly that water is not land, and that atmo- 
spheric air is distinct from both, as we know that 
a square is not a circle, and that the number four is 
not the number five. We know- that it is tlie pro- 
perty of water to drown some animals, and to sup- 
port others in existence, whose peculiar properties 
are adapted to that element. V>^e perceive that it 
is the property of fire to consume some bodies, to 
harden others, and to melt metals. It is the infi- 
nitude of these properties, and the diversities pro- 
duced by their operation, which render extensive- 
experience, and minute observation, so necessary, 
in order to enlarge the boundaries of true science, 
to which visionary theories, and wanton scepticism, 
are so inimical. 

To illu3ti'ate these truths by a familiar instance 
immediately before me. I put a bit of sugar 
into my coffee; I perceive that it quickly dissolves. 
I will suppose this to be the first experiment of the 
kind which I have made, but I immediately ascer- 
tain these facts ; that sugar w-ili dissolve, and that 
it will dissolve in a solution of the coffee-berry in hot 

water. 



£8^ ON THE METAPHYSICS 

water. I try an infusion of the tea-leaf, and I find the 
same result. I may now suspect that the tea is also 
a solvent; but I vary my experiments until I dis- 
cover that sugar will dissolve in the fluid of water, 
but that heat quickens the solution. I have now 
solved one problem, of which I am as confident as 
of the geometrical process convincing me, that the 
angles of an equilateral triangle are equal to two 
right ones. I put a piece of white marble into these 
fiuids ; it is of the same size, shape, and colour, 
with the sugar. It will not dissolve. Hence I per- 
ceive that, notwithstanding it agrees in colour, 
shape, and size, marble possesses a peculiar property, 
which prevents its being acted upon by water, in any 
of these combinations. This is equal to the solu- 
tion of another problem. I let the marble fall into 
an acid. 1 soon perceive a corrosion and efferves- 
cence ; that its conformation gradually changes : 
and finally from a solid it becomes a fluid, diffused 
through every part of its menstruum. I now^ perceive 
that acids are solvents of marble. I put a piece of 
wood or of wax into the acid ; I perceive that the 
same effects are not produced. I know with certain- 
ty, that acids will dissolve some bodies, but not all. 
Here are other problems ascertained ; and, if I be 
a true philosopher, by making judicious experiments 
and drawing legitimate inferences, without amusing 
myself, and teasing others with captious doubts, 



Oi^ MR. HUME. 



237 



and arbitrary conjectures, I shall ascertain innu- 
merable facts, of which the doubter must remain 
for ever ignorant. 

The above process is a slight specimen of what 
takes place through every department in nature. 
Our own experience, in union with the experience 
of multitudes, finally enriches us with innumerable 
facts, as indubitable as any series of mathematical 
principles. The experiments which have been made, 
and which are daily making, inspire us with a full 
conviction, that every thing around us posseses 
powers, and is able, in certain circumstances, to 
produce certain changes ; that these various powers 
give a distinguishing peculiarity to existent sub- 
stances, constituting their specific differences ; nor 
can we suppose them to be deprived of them, with- 
out supposing them to be no longer what they are. 

We proceed further ; we know, if qualities and 
circumstances remain precisely the same, the result 
will be precisely the same. Sugar will never rcfiise 
to melt in hot water, nor a calcareous body to dis- 
solve in an acid menstruum, excepting some adven- 
titious circumstance should intervene ; which may 
disturb a particular experiment, without destroying 
the established principle. That which constitutes 
their specific nature will determine their specific 
operations, as incontestably as twice three will make 
sixj and not twelve ; or the section of a circle will 

form 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



form an arch, and not a square. Where the result' 
is not as might have been expected, it is infinitely 
more philosophical to search out the cause, than to 
suspect an established principle, on account of oc- 
casional failures arising from our ignorance. The 
sugar, for example, had been dipt in oil, or in the 
yolk of an egg, and I perceive that it will not dis- 
solve as U5:ual ; am I immediately to become a Hu- 
mite, and doubt the solubility of sugar in hot water? 
Shall I admonish my friends not to put it into their tea 
or coffee, for the solution of it is not always certain r 
Such incidents do not destroy the grand principle 
— -that circumstances exactly similar will produce 
similar results : they confirm it, by detecting the 
cause of an unexpected difference. They enlarge 
also our acquaintance with facts, principles, and new 
modes of acting. 

I therefore maintain, in opposition to the bold 
assertion of our philosopher; that the discovery of 
power s a?2dp ropei^iies, inherent in different substanceSy 
and invariably connected with different circum- 
stances, ?^ the discover]/ of' a medium, which renders 
the experience of the past of the utmost importance 
tx) the future ; a medium, which is mfallible, when- 
ever our knowledge is sufficiently extensive and ac- 
curate. If one substance possess exacdy the same 
properties as another, and if it be placed in a situa- 
tion in all respects siminar, a similar effect must be 

produced. 



OP MR. IIUME. 289 

produced. If one mode of acting be productive 
of a particular event, and this mode be imitated 
subsequently, every circumstance connected with it 
being exactly the same, in its nature and strength 
of operation, the result must have a perfect corre- 
spondence. To suppose the contrary, is to suppose 
that these properties are endowed with a principle 
of caprice, merely to tease and disappoint us; or 
that the same bodies and the same circumstances 
combat against themselves ! It is to suppose, that 
they are precisely the same, and yet that they act 
in a manner which demonstrates that they are not 
the same. When the result is different from what 
we had expected, it does not shake the immutable 
laws of nature; it simply indicates our ignorance; 
it teaches us to inquire more accurately into the 
state of things, and to be less presumptuous in the 
future. • 

The extensive and intricate science of chemistry 
beautifully illustrates and confirms these principles. 
No chemist, who makes the least pretensions to 
philosophy, will throw aside his pursuits in arro- 
gant despair, and rashly conclude that there can be 
no certainty in the science itself, because he is not 
sufficiently acquainted with its laws. Notwithstand- 
ing frequent disappointments, the confidence inspi- 
red by the happy results of former experiments, ani- 
mates him to proceed. He diversifies his mode of 

u procedure. 



Q90 ON THE METAPHYSICS 

pt-ocedure. This enables him to discover the cause 
of his former mistakes and failures ; and he finally 
succeeds to his wishes. His more accurate know- 
ledge discovers to him thejmmutable laws of the 
science, and that nothing but consummate ignorance 
could indulge suspicions to the contrary. 

Could it be imagined that so shrewd a writer is 
really in earnest, we should be compelled to ascribe 
his confused and embarrassed reasonings, to his 
having again confounded our notions, and our con- 
ceptions of things, with the realities of nature. He 
says, " if there be any suspicion that the course of 
nature may change, or that the past be no rule for 
the future, all experience becomes useless." The 
force of his argument ought not to rest upon mere 
suspicions, but upon our having jw^^ cause to suspect 
that the course of nature may change ; and this 
must be founded upon an intimate acquaintance 
with all her laws. Let me ask, Who is it that su- 
spects, and whether his suspicions arise from is^no- 
rance, or from knowledge ? If he asserts from the 
latter, let him produce one instance in which the 
laws of nature have varied from themselves. If 
from ignorance, let him not presume to suspect. 
For an attempt to convince every ignorant man 
would be endless. If A suspects, and should be 
silenced, is the process to be renewed with By C, D, 
and the rest of the alphabet? A mere suspicion 

can 



OF MR. HUME. 291 

tan be no proof of the truth or falsehood of any 
proposition : it cannot be, therefore, a secure prin- 
ciple of action. No suspicions are more warrant- 
able than those of our own ignorance. 

But could it be proved that the course of nature 
may change, all experience would not become use- 
less. She does not always disappoint us. We may 
continue to enjoy her benefits, until we shall have 
detected that nature is too treacherous in her con- 
duct to merit our future confidence. 

He asks. Why should past experience be extended 
to future times, and other objects, which, for aught 
tve know, may be only in appearance ? My first an- 
swer is, by the question, Why should we not con- 
tinue our confidence in one who, for aught we know, 
may continue our friend ? who is not prone to de- 
ceive, and from whom we have received so many 
benefits ? My second answer is, If these similar ap- 
pearances should be, in every point, the same, we 
are sure of success. If we do not succeed, nature 
has not deceived us, we have suffered ourselves to be 
deceived by appeara7ices. Nature has not changed 
her laws, and her manner of acting, but we were not 
sufficiently acquainted with them. Our mistake 
should make us more cautious, and quicken our re- 
searches, that we may not act upon presumptions? 
where we can avoid it. By reiterated experiments 
we shall be more successful. The disappointments 

u 2 we 



1292 ON THE METAPHYSICS 

we have suffered, during our ignorance, will aug- 
ment our knowledge ; and they may finally conduct 
usj through this ignorance, into a more extensive 
acquaintance with facts, and the laws by which the 
different parts of nature are governed. As our know- 
ledge increases, will our failures decrease, until the 
past shall become an infallible rule for the future. 
Mr. Hume's complaint^ that nature has kept us at a 
great distance from all her secrets, is ill founded. 
She simply keeps from us secrets which would be of 
no use : arcana upon which we could not act. She 
invites us to inquire into what are of infinite utility, 
into powers, and properties. The more assiduous our 
researches after these, the more amply will she re- 
ward us. If we knew these to the utmost extent, 
arid had the wisdom to apply them properly, we 
should be unerring in our judgement, and in our 
conduct, without our knowing any one of those ar- 
cana, she has determined to keep to herself. 

Thus are we safely conducted to the following 
indubitable truths. If things external do not exist, 
there can be only one individual in the universe; and 
he that is of this opinion ought to keep it to him- 
self, and not attempt to trouble nonexistences with 
his notions. If things external do exist, they must 
possess some properties, by which their existence is 
to be known. If they do not exist, as unconnected as 
Mr, Hume's man of impressions, they must possess 

some 



OF MR. HUME. 293 

some poxcers, by which one body, or one substance, 
is able to act upon another. If their actions be 
various, their powers must be various. The man 
who has eyes and ears, which to the man of mere 
impressions cannot be of any use, will be fully con- 
vinced that he sees objects, and that he hears 
sounds, of various kinds ; and by every sense does 
he perceive influences of different descriptions. 
He may be mistaken, respecting the nature and 
modes of operations of these efficient causes ; he 
may even deny the existence of a material world, as 
it appears to our senses ; but still he acknowledges 
the existence of operative powers, because he per- 
ceives that certain effects are produced, which must 
have an adequate cause*. In some cases he 
perceives that effects are invariably the same ; 
hence he is authorized to conclude, that the causes 
are perfectly similar : in others, he perceives a di- 
versity, a characteristic diversity, which leads him 
to infer a diversity of powers in efiicient agents. 

In his contemplation of powers and properties, 
he remarks that some of these belong to the sub- 
stance, or substratum itself, constituting it whe^t it 
is ; and others relate to that hrftuence by which, in 
certain connexions, it is able to act upon other sub- 
stances, producing a change in their state or mode 
pf existence. He forms such distinct and accurate 

* See Note S, 

ideas 



294 ON THE METAPHYSICS 

ideas of these powers and properties, that he sepa-^ 
rates them into different classes, ascribing to each 
class its appropriate office. Some he calls fnechanic 
powers, others chemical, . others "vital, others meiir. 
tal. The mechanic, he perceives to operate by an 
impulsive force, which changes forms and situations, 
but not the wonted properties of bodies. Chemical 
influence is able to destroy one class of properties, 
and create another. Vital powers propagate vege- 
table and animal bodies, preserve them in existence 
for a destined period, and also convert the elements 
around them into their own specific natures, Mental 
powers receive impressions from external objects, 
reflect upon them, feel certain affections or emo-? 
tions within, examine and meditate upon these ob- 
jects, and generate a new train of ideas correspond 
dent to their supposed nature and their influence. 
This is a power which the whimsical theory of our* 
philosopher must admit ; for, without it, impress 
sions themselves would not be able to excite mimic 
thoughts, nor these to generate others. 

The influence of powers and properties is acknow^ 
ledged in every action we perform, in every state 
where we may be placed, in every thing we can 
suffer ; it is obvious in every human invention, in 
every chemical operation, and in every sentiment 
of the mind. The powers which act, must always 
act in a manner correspondent with their nature ; 

and 



OF MR. HUME. QQS 

and were they to act simply, or individually, one un- 
varied effect would be produced : but, in every species 
of complication, although each power operates cor^^ 
respondently with its nature, yet the contest of op- 
posite powers may create an embarrassing diversity 
to the spectator, in some particular instances of 
their agency ; and as long as we are ignorant of 
the precise nature or degrees of agency, in each ef- 
ficient, we may form wrong expectations, by being 
deceived by external appearances, in cases where 
latent differences may exist. Let our ignorance be 
removed, and the deception will vanish. But I shall 
express this idea in a more lucid manner, by tran- 
scribing the words of an author, who cannot be pre- 
judiced against the favourite theory of Mr. Hume, 
for it is of Mr. Hume himself In Section VHL, 
where he treats of liberty and necessity, is the fol- 
lowing remarkable passage : 

" The vulgar, who take things according to their 
first appearance, attribute the uncertainty of events 
to such an uncertainty in the causes, as makes the 
latter often fail of their usual influence ; though 
they met with no impediment in their operation. 
But philosophers observing that almost in every part 
of nature ther^ is contained a vast variety of springs; 
and principles, which are hid by reason of their mi- 
nuteness or remoteness, find that it is at least possibly 
the contrariety of events may not proceed from any 

contiri' 



WG ON THE METAPHYSICS 



contingency in the cause, but from the secret opera-^ 
tion of contrary causes. This possibility is con- 
verted into certainty by further observation ; when 
they remark that, upon an exact scrutiny, a con- 
trariety of effects always betrays a contrariety of 
causes, and proceeds from their mutual opposition. 
A peasant can give no better reason for the stop- 
ping of any clock or watch, than to say that it does 
not commonly go right, But an artist easily per- 
ceives that the same force in the spring or pendu- 
lum has always the same influence on the wheels ; 
but fails of its usual effect, perhaps by reason of a 
grain of dust, which puts a stop to the whole move- 
ment." 

The above strictures will sufficiently evince, that 
the grand division proposed by our philosopher, of 
all the objects of human inquiry into relation of 
ideas and matters of fact, and the manner in which 
he characterizes these divisions, are exceptionable 
and erroneous. They manifest, that there is as close 
a relation between matters of fact and our impres- 
sions, as there is between impressions and subse* 
quent thoughts : they manifest, that matters of fact 
must,, in our conceptions, be prior to the sciences of 
geometry, algebra, or arithmetic, which presuppose, 
and which are founded upon, facts. The clear per- 
ception of existences is the basis of all knowledge* 
The obvious difference consists, in the advantage 

pos- 



or MR. HUME. Q97 

possessed by mathematical science, in having every 
thing belonging to its problems placed before the 
eye of the student, which enables him accurately to 
discern the relation of part to part. The historian, 
the naturalist, and the moralist, possess not these 
advantages to an equal extent. This creates an el- 
lipsis, which can seldom be supplied by conjecture, 
and frecjuently compels us to rest in high probabili- 
ties, without enjoying full demonstration. But it is 
also manifest, that the deficiency of a single line, 
angle, or curve, the absence of a requisite sign, or 
the misnaming of a single letter or ligure, would 
place the geometrician, algebraist, and arithmeti- 
cian, in a predicament perfectly similar. 

Section V. 

Solution of Sceptical Doubts.'' 

Our philosopher, in this section, closely resem- 
bles the renowned Hud i bras, 

Who could raise questions dark and nice. 

And then resolve them in a trice ; 

As if philosophy had catch'd 

The , on purpose to be scratch'd." 

It opens in a pompous strain of eloquence, with 
high encomiums on the academic or sceptical phi- 
losophy. He talks with raptures of the advantage 
of doubts and suspensions of judgement, of danger 
in hasty determinations, of the contrariety of this 

philo' 



298 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



philosophy to the supine indolence of the mindj to 
its rash arrogance, lofty pretensions, superstitious 
credulity, &c. &c. He boasts, that the sceptical 
philosophy is capable of mortifying every passion, 
excepting the love of fame, &;c. &c. &c. 

The object of this grand exordium is to introduce, 
with due solemnity and respect, a substitute or sub- 
stitutes for the advantages from expeiience of which 
his theory necessarily deprives us. The poet sings, 

" Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridi cuius mus." 
And Mr. Hume's philosophical parturition brings 
forth a couple of urchins, which make a figure almost 
as ridiculous in the offices assigned to them. He says, 
that no person, by all his experience, has acquired 
any idea or knowledge of the secret power by which 
the one object produces another ; nor is it by any 
process of reasoning that he is determined to draw 
the inference. Bat still he finds himself determined 
to draw it : and, though he should be convinced that 
his understanding has no part in the operation, he 
would nevertheless continue in the same course of 
thinking. There is some other principle which 
determines him to draw this conclusion. This prin- 
ciple is CUSTOM or HABIT." This mode of expres- 
sion leaves it in doubt whether custom and habit 
are considered, by our philosopher, as one principle 
under two appellations, or as two distinct princi- 
ples. However, it will appear in the sequel that 

they 



OF MR. HUME. 299 

they are twins, like Esau and Jacob that Custom, 
like Esau, is the elder of the two ; and Habit, like 
Jacob, is both thq younger and the smoother. 

" Whenever," he says, " the repetition of any 
particular act or operation introduces a propensity 
to renew the same act or operation, without being 
impelled by any reasoning or process of the under- 
standing, we always say that this propensity is the 
effect of custom.'" 

" Custom is the grand guide of human life. It 
is the principle alone which renders our experience 
useful to us, and makes us expect for the future a 
similar train of events, with those which have ap-- 
peared in th^ past." 

This is a tone more becoming the dogmatist, than 
the cautious sceptic ; and we shall examine whether 
it does not savour of those hasty determinations, 
aiid that rash arrogance, which he so severely cen- 
sures in others. By paying due attention to the 
riature and origin of custom, we shall also find that 
it contams an unanswerable argument against his 
whole theory. 

What is Custom ? It is, according to his own 
statement, the frequent repetition of an act, until it 
grows familiar to us ; and we are not conscious, at 
the time, of any process of the understanding being 
requisite for the performance of it. Why do we 
repeat the act so frequently ? Because we have 

e.vperienced 



soo 



GN THE METAPHYSICS 



e.vperknced that it has always produced certain 
effects : and this discovery becomes the basis, or 
the cause, of our repetition. Every repeated act, 
founded upon former experience, confirms our con- 
viction, that what has once taken place, will, in 
circumstances perfectly similar, take place again ; 
which confutes the rash assertion, that all former 
experience is entirely useless. Habit is no other 
than our bein^ so long accustomed to situations and 
actions, that they sit perfectly easy upon the mind. 
Long Habits acquire something of an instinctive 
cast of character, becoming, as it w^ere, congenial 
to our natures. Habit is therefore a stronger term, 
expressive of the Jaciiiti/ of custom ; reconciling 
us to states and circumstances, which, however 
customary, might not, without habits, cease to be 
disagreeable to us. Customs and habits have passed 
through reiterated experiments, until it would be 
a species of insanity to doubt of their efficacy. This 
is an incontestable fact, a total inattention to which 
has introduced numerous errors and absurdities in 
speculative philosophy. Their influence destroys 
the necessity of a conscious process of the under- 
standing, in every distinct act. We are relieved 
from the tedious task of paying deliberate attention 
to the nature, motive, manner, or consequences of 
an act, every time it is performed. But let us trace 
our most familiar actions to their origin, and we 

shall 



OF MR. HUME. 



301 



shall find, that they were all introduced by a de- 
liberate process of the understanding. They owe 
their commencement to cautions observations made, 
either by ourselves or others. The person who 
first ate bread, or drank wine, was trying an experi- 
ment; he found them so refreshing, that others were 
wise enough to follow his example ; and they ex- 
perienced the same beneficial effects, until at length 
mankind subscribe to the axiom, that bread is nu- 
tritious, and wine exhilarating, with a confidence 
equal to that of the arithmetician to the axiom that 
two and two make four. ]\Iany experiments must 
be designedly and cautiously made by the little 
infant, before he can walk a few yards to its mo- 
iher's lap ; but the rope-dancer acquires such agi- 
lity, by long practice, that he can caper in a thou- 
sand attitudes, to the astonishment of spectators, 
without his thinking of the manner in which he 
shall perform a single motion. Now the rope- 
dancer was this very infant. We may defy our 
philosopher to produce any one operation or act, 
unconnected with animal instinct, which has not 
undergone the slow process of mental inquiry by- 
some one. Every novel object, and every novel 
situation, demands attention and thought, until we 
shall become acquainted with its powers, pro- 
perties, and probable consequences. A stranger 
to the road eagerly inquires of every passenger, 

and 



on ME MEtA:PttYSICS 



and examines every way-post ; whereas in his sub- 
sequent journeys he may become heedless of both. 
When we know that we are upon safe ground, we 
walk with confidence and speed. Were we com- 
pelled to deliberate on every action of our lives, we 
should not have much time for action. If we re- 
main at the foundation, we shall not raise a super- 
structure : If we confine ourselves to the spelling- 
book, we shall never read with fluency. 

Having thus made our comments upon the lead- 
ing principles of this arch reasoner, it will not be 
necessary to prosecute the subject with equal mi- 
nuteness. It is hoped, that the above will be suf- 
ficient to convince the warmest admirers of Dr. 
Beattie's Essay on Truth, that it is not requisite to 
renounce our reason, in order to escape the scep- 
tical notions of this author. They will also per^ 
ceive, that the inconsistences with which Dr. Beattie 
is chargeable, proceed from his having adopted too 
many of this sophist's principles. 

The remaining parts of the Enquire/ are de- 
voted to the vain attempt to subjugate every prin- 
ciple venerated by man to this new theory. If we 
shall have made it appear, that the theory is a mere 
idol of the imagination, a nonentity, similar to the 
idols which heathens have always worshipped, it 

is 



OF MR. HUME. 



303 



is obvious, that the costly sacrifice of every thing 
most valuable may well be spared. A few cursory 
remarks will serve to evince that he has made the 
attempt in vain. Facts are stubborn things ; and, 
in spite of all his efforts, they will not bow before 
this idol. 

His first attack is upon the vulgar notions re- 
specting W/e/j OY faith. The opinion generally 
received is, that belief is a persuasion or a convic- 
tion of the existence of some facts, founded upon 
what appears to be competent evidence. The sub- 
ject, therefore, relates to something external, which 
cannot be ascertained by any of the senses, but 
alone by the exercise of our rational faculties. 

This opinion is, however, totally inadmissible, 
upon an hypothesis which determines to break off 
every connexion with things external, and to keep 
all inapressiohs and ideas within the contracted 
sphere of individual Self. 

But now the question is. What constitutes the 
difi:erence between belief and every other mimic 
thought, which presents itself to the solitary mind ? 
In answer to this question, it is said, that " the 
difference between fiction and belief lies in some 
sentiment, ox feeling, which is annexed to the latter, 
not to the former ; and which depend? not on the 
will, nor can be commanded at pleasure. It must 
be excited by nature, like all Qthex sentiments ; and 

must 



504 ON THE METAPHtSIdS 

must arise from the particular situation in which the 
mind is placed at any particular juncture." As 
he cannot give a definition of belief, he begs us to 
accept of the following description " I say, then, 
that belief is nothing but a more vivid, lively, for- 
cible, steady, conception of an object, than what the 
imagination alone is ever able to attain." He adds : 
" This variety of terms, which may seem so unphi- 
losophical, is intended only to express that act of 
the mind, which renders realities, or what are taken 
for such, more present to us than fictions, causes 
them to \^'eigh more in the thought, and gives them 
a superior influence on the passions and imagina- 
tion." He adds :— -^^ Provided we agree about the 
thing, it is needless to dispute about the terms. 
The imagination has the command over all its 
ideas ; and can join, and mix, and vary them in all 
the ways possible, &c. ; but as it is impossible that 
this faculty of the imagination can ever, of itself, 
reach belief, it is evident that belief consists not in 
the pecuhar order or nature of the ideas, but in the 
manlier of their conception, and rnhh^iv feeling to 
the mind." He further adds : — " I confess that it 
is impossible perfectly to explain this feeling, or 
manner of conception. We may make use of words 
which express something near it ; but its true and 
proper name, as we observed before, is belief, which 
is a term which every one understands in common 

life. 



OF MR. HUME. 



305 



life. And in philosophy we can go no further, than 
to assert that belief is something felt by the mind, 
which distinguishes the ideas of the judgement from 
the fictions of the imagination !" 

I have made this extract of considerable length, 
in order to shorten my remarks on the sentiments 
it conveys. The more they are displayed, the 
more will their absurdity be exposed. Never was 
more confused, unintelligible jargon penned by 
man ! If the disciples of this philosopher can rest 
contented with principles which their teacher con- 
fesses he does not rightly understand, and cannot 
fully explain, their belief must indeed greatly exceed 
all the powers of the most vivid Imagination. The 
varied phraseology reminds us of that to which his 
opponent, Dr. Beattie, had recourse ; who, as al- 
ready observed, has spread his net in a similar man- 
ner, in order to catch some truths that might possibly 
be swimming upon his paradoxes ; and, with si- 
milar success, — truths are not to be caught by indefi- 
nite terms. According to this new theory, Belief 
is in its own nature much more vivid, lively, and 
forcible than the Imagination. Let no pious Chris- 
tian hereafter complain of the extravagances of his 
imagination, and the weakness of his faith. Ac- 
cording to this new theory, man may, in some par- 
ticular moods, think of a thing until he has a title 

X to 



306 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



to consider it as a reality. Let not that man smile 
at the adage — Crede quod habeSy et habes. 

But, unfortunately, this account of the nature of 
belief will not accord with the leading principles 
he has taken so much pains to establish. It im- 
poses another task upon the mind, for which he 
had not made a provision, when he laid down his 
first principles in so authoritative a tone. In addi- 
tion to its receiving impressions, and these impres- 
sions leaving behind them mimic ideas, which are 
capable of generating other thoughts and ideas, we 
now learn that the mind is also destined, at parti- 
cular times, and in particular moods, to select some 
of these copies from the others, and contemplate 
them with so much ardour and earnestness, as to 
convert them into matters of fact, perfectly distin- 
guishable from the common vagaries of the brain ! 

It is, however, worthy of observation, that, during 
this singular process, the mind is obliged to travel 
through two other beliefs, in order to arrive at the 
final one. It must first believe that mimic ideas 
are solely derived from impressions ; secondly, that 
these mimic ideas generate other thoughts; and 
finally, that in some situations, and in some inex- 
plicable manner, these thoughts may be transmuted 
into Realities. Here is a trinity in unity, as myste- 
rious as that he would be most prone to ridicule. 

From 



OF MR. HUME. 307 

From this curious hypothesis, are we not autho- 
rized to infer that our author's philosophy was, at 
first, a mere creature of the brain, an amusing whim; 
but that, by thinking upon it intensely, in different 
situations and in different moods, he has finally 
brought it to the consistence of a Reality ? 

Section VI. 
" On Probability:' 

Our philosopher commences this Section by as- 
serting that "there is no such thing as chance in 
the world but as " our ignorance of the real cause 
of any event has the same influence on the under- 
standing, and begets a like species of belief or opi- 
nion," he amuses himself with the inquiry, how 
chance would act, supposing it existed. This reminds 
me of a sermon which I once heard on the day of 
Pentecost, in which the learned divine, after a very 
short vindication of the disciples from the suspicions 
entertained of their ebriety, because they spoke in 
strange tongues, amused himself and his audience, 
with speculating upon the kinds of wines, with which 
we might suppose the disciples to have been intoxi- 
cated, admitting the charge of intoxication to have 
been well founded. 

In a note, where he criticizes Mr. Locke's divi- 
sion of arguments into demonstrative and probable, 

X 2 he 



308 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



he recommends a division of his own into demOn- 
strations, proofs, and probabilities. By proofs he 
means such arguments, from experience, as leave 
no room for doubt or opposition." 

We shall first observe, that this is a very arbitrary 
deviation from the usual acceptation of the word, 
and totally inadmissible ; for all probabilities en- 
tirely depend upon the nature and degrees of proofs 
advanced ; and secondly, that his mode of reasoning, 
in this section, contradicts his former assertions. 
He now acknowledges, that arguments from expe- 
rience may be such as leave no room for doubt or 
Opposition. According to a preceding position, no 
argument could possibly be founded on experience, 
and now we discover that it may be such as shall 
remove all doubts ! 

In the process of his arguments respecting the 
doctrine of chance, he finds it convenient also to 
adopt the ideas he has attempted to refute. He 
speaks of " some causes which are entirely uniform 
and constant, in producing a particular effect; and 
no instance has ever been found of any failure or 
irregularity in their operation. Fire has always 
burned and water suffocated every human creature. 
The production of motion by impulse and gravity is 
an universal law, which has hitherto admitted of no 
exception!" 

S£C« 



OF MR. HUME. 



309 



Section VIII. 
" Of the Idea of Necessary Connexion.^' 

Our philosopher proposes, in this Section, to fix 
the precise meaning to the terms power, force, 
energy, or necessary connexion. This he attempts 
npon the system, which he says will not admit of 
much dispute, " that all our ideas are nothing but 
copies of our impressions ; or that it is impossible 
for us to think of any thing, which we have not felt 
antecedently, either by our external or internal 
senses." He observes, that -complex terms may be 
defined by the enumeration of those simple ideas 
that compose them ; but he asks. How shall we 
act respecting simple ideas ? and he answers, "Pro- 
duee the impressions, or original sentiments, from 
which the ideas are copied," " To be fully acquaints 
ed with the idea of power or necessary connexion, 
let us examine its impressions, and let us search 
for these in all the sources from which they may be 
possibly derived." He proceeds, " When we look 
about us towards external objects, and consider the 
operations of causes, we are never able, in a single 
instance, to discover any power or necessary con- 
nexion, any quality which binds the effect to the 
cause, and renders the one an infallible consequence 
©f the other. We only find that the one does acr 

tpally 



310 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



tually in fact follow the other. The impulse of one 
billiard ball is attended with motion in the second. 
This is the whole that appears to the outward senses. 
The mind feels no sentiment or ifiwai^d impression 
from this succession of objects ; consequently, there 
is not, in any single particular instance of cause and 
effect, any thing which can suggest the idea of power 
or necessary connexion." 

We perceive that this most extraordinary author, 
in the passage under consideration, speaks of exter- 
nal objects, cause and effect, operations of causes, 
with all the confidence which belongs to what he 
calls the easy philosophy ; while it is the grand ob- 
ject of his more abstruse and arduous philosophy, 
to disprove their existence. This task is, however, 
so arduous, that had he not despised ease, it would 
have been much more easy for him to decompose 
his theory, and make it up in a new manner, than 
to render these absurd assertions plausible. In 
these statements, Mr. Hume seriously expects that 
we should sacrifice our understandings to his whim- 
sical first principles : but as we may, without much 
danger of error, reject them altogether, we are under 
no obligation to deny the existence of power and 
necessary connexion, because their essence is not 
adapted to affect any of our bodily organs. He 
maintains, with infinitely more boldness than facts 

will 



OF MR. HUME. 



311 



will admit, that there is not, • in any particular in- 
stance of cause and effect, any thing which can sug- 
gest the idea of power or necessity. Whence comes 
it, then, that the idea is actually suggested to every 
thinking mind in the universe, excepting his own r 
If he means ought not to suggest these ideas, for- 
midable should be the proofs that cause and effect 
are incessantly acting in opposition to their own 
natures ; for they are doing it perpetually. Our 
philosopher absurdly expects, that powers, and in- 
fluence, and connexion, should assume some cor- 
poreal form. Their essence must be seen, smelt, 
tasted, or heard, in order to produce the indubitable 
impression. But this is not their province, it does 
not belong to their nature. Their office consists in 
producing effects, and these effects are to make im- 
pressions, these are to be perceived by the mind, ac- 
cording to their specific characters. Light has the 
power of rendering bodies, naturally opake, visible 
to the organs of sight, which are em powdered by 
their conformation to enjoy its exhilarating and be- 
nign influence, and through its medium to perceive 
the existence, forms, colours, &c. of external ob- 
jects. By the peculiar construction and disposition 
of the auditory nerves, and the various undulations 
of atmospheric air, powerful effects are produced 
upon the organs of hearing. These effects demon- 
strate their power of communicating impressions, 

without 



3 IS ON THE METAPHYSICS 



without which, neither the man nor his impressions 
could exist for a moment. 

He has prudently chosen the example of billiard 
balls to illustrate his theory ; for these, being sub- 
jected to mechanic impulse, remain unchanged in 
their constituent, properties ; whether in motion or 
at rest, connected or unconnected, they continue 
the same balls ; and we can conceive of them as 
being in motion or at rest, just as we please. But 
there are numerous instances of powerful opei'a- 
tions, in which a total change is made in the state 
of one body, and its mode of existence, by the ope- 
rations of another; so that the objects illustrative 
of cause and effect, cannot subsist together. When 
we see that gunpowder springs a mine, do we not 
know that there is an influential connexion between 
the explosion and the desolation produced by it ? 
Shall we say that thq.mine would have sprung with- 
out it ; and that noise, expansion of air, destruc- 
tions, and desolations, can exist without gunpowder, 
as well as gunpowder can exist without explosion 
and its effects ? When we see, in the vegetable crea- 
tion, germs unfolding into buds, these into flowers, 
these into fruits, &;c. do we not perceive that a 
power is at work, though its nature is unsearchable, 
and its mode of operation unknown ? Will Mr. 
Hume refuse to enjoy a bunch of grapes, unless he 
knows how they are formed ? or to taste the flavour 

of 



OF MR. IKJME. 



313 



of a peach or a nectarine, unless he sees the man- 
ner in which a stone is placed in the centre, con- 
taining the principles of a distinct vegetation ? 

The man who denies the existence of powers and 
influences, in myriads of instances of a similar na- 
ture, must be in a dream. His judgement is pro- 
foundly asleep, and his imagination runs wild. The 
boy who broke his drum, that he might see the sound, 
was qualified to be a pupil of this great master. Un- 
fortunately, he lost his drum ; but most certainly he 
will not refuse to beat a march upon another drum, 
because he could not discover the essence of sound; 
and as soon as he arrives to years of discernment, 
he will be ready to subscribe to the declaration of 
this master, that no one hut a fool or a madman 
would attempt to act upon his principles. 

But let us take his example of the billiard balls. 
Two balls are lying upon a billiard table in a state 
of rest. A gentleman comes in, takes up a mace, 
and impels the one against the other. They are both 
put into motion, and the one drives the other into 
a corner pocket. The agent aimed at driving a par- 
ticular ball into this pocket, and triumphs in the 
success, which manifests his skill. Will Hume or any 
of his disciiles assert that the two balls moved them- 
selves spontaneously, at the instant the agent im- 
pelled the mace against the foremost ball ? Or that 
this mace moved itself against the ball, without the 

assist- 



5l4 



THE METAPHYSICS 



assistance of the arm which held it ? If not, there 
must have been a propulsive power, skiMuWy di- 
rected. 

In this'case there are bat thj'ee suppositions. to be 
made: either the balls were set into motion by some 
agent, and they acted, and were acted upon, accord- 
ing to the appointed laws of motion ; or they spon- 
taneously moved themselves, contrary to any laws 
of motion; or they did not move, and the whole was 
a dream. 

According to the lirst supposition, we have the 
natural operation of cause and effect, which de- 
stroys the hypothesis : according to the second, the 
balls, and also the mace, must move themselves ; 
that is, they possess the power oi self-motion, which 
again destroys the system; and a most stupendous 
miracle is likewise performed, without any one to 
perform iti Let not this writer deny the possibihty 
of miracles ! Let him not even laugh at the credulity 
of monks, who believe that some saints can bathe 
luxuriously in caldrons of boiling lead, and that 
others can swim over rivers with their heads under 
their arms ; for they suppose a power to exist equal 
to the effect: — but here we are to believe in an 
agency, without an agent. 

If neither of these positions can be admitted, it 
only remains to confess that the whole is a dream. 
To a man in a dream, every extravagance appears 

not 



OF MR. HUME. 



315 



not only a possibility, but a reality. A dreamer 
may pass through every branch of this sceptical phi- 
losophy, without the least embarrassment. 

The reader will pardon me, it I venture to mention 
a fact which beautifully illustrates my assertion, as 
well as the theory before us. I once had a friend, 
who dreamed that he was dead ; and upon his ap- 
plying to an undertaker . for burial, he was desired 
to postpone the funeral to a distant day. To 
this the dead man would not consent ; alleging, 
that as he was not conscious of his having been 
a nuisance to any one during his life, he would not 
submit to that disgrace after his death. Here, 
then, is the genuine philosophic series : strong im- 
pressions, succeeded by correspondent thoughts, 
which in the peculiar state of his mind constituted 
belief The Reality, however, w^as prevented ; for 
" he awoke ; and, behold, it was a dream !" In 
the remaining part of this section, our consistent 
reasoner revives the position, that unless we know 
the arcana of nature, we can know nothing of her 
operations. If this position has not been satisfac- 
torily answered by us, it is by himself. " Fire has 
always burned, and water suffocated every human 
creature. The production of motion by impulse and 
gravity is an universal law, which has hitherto ad- 
mitted of no exceptions." 



Sec- 



516 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



Section VIIL 
Of Libert]/ and Necessity'' 

The doctrine of liberty and necessity having but 
a renmote connexion with the subject under our im- 
mediate consideration, we shall spare ourselves and 
the reader the trouble of minutely examining its 
principles. The professed object is, to reconcile 
contending parties, by showing that, if they could 
agree in the definitions of the terms liberty and ne- 
cessity, the debate would cease. In this Section he 
reasons most closely, and, in general, satisfactorily. 
We shall select a few of those passages where his 
reasoning is worthy of himself, as they furnish an 
ample confutation of the leading principles which, 
in the preceding sections, he has attempted to es- 
tablish with all the subtil ties of argumentation. " It 
is universally allowed, that matter, in all its opera- 
tions, is actuated by a necessary force, and that 
every natural effect is so precisely determined by 
the energy of its cause^ that no other effect, in such 
particular circumstayices^ could possibly have re- 
sulted from it. 

Here our philosopher speaks as if he were awake, 
and, like every other person who is awake, confutes 
the phantoms of his dreams. Again, 

" If all the scenes of nature were continually 
shifted in 3uch a manner, that no two events bore 

any 



OF MR. HUME. 



317 



any resemblance to each other, but ^very object 
was entirely new,, without any similitude to whatever 
had been seen before, we should never, in that case, 
have attained the least idea of necessity, or of a 
connexion among these objects. We might say, 
upon such a supposition, that one object or event 
has followed another ; not that one was produced 
by the other. The relation of cause and effect must 
be utterly unknown to mankind ; inference and rea- 
soning, concerning the operations of nature, would, 
from that moment, be at an end ; and the memory 
and senses remain the only canals, by which the 
knowledge of any real existence could possibly have 
access to the mind." 

" The records of wars, intrigues, factions, and 
revolutions, are so many collections of experiments^ 
by which the politician, or moral philosopher, fixes 
the principles of his science : in the same manner 
as the physician, or moral philosopher, becomes ac- 
quainted with the nature of plants, minerals, and 
other external objects — by the experiments which he 
forms concerning them." 

A very large portion of this Section consists of 
similar arguments and illustrations ; but we shall 
close, with the following passage, which confesses, 
either that he is in a dream, when he speculates con- 
cerning his own hypothesis, or that he is endeavour- 
ing to lull others to sleep. 

'^The 



318 



ON THE METAPHYSICI^ 



" The poorest artificer expects, when he carries 
his goods to market, and offers them at a reasonable 
price, that he shall find purchasers. — In proportion 
as men extend their dealings, and render their in- 
tercourse with others more complicated, they always 
comprehend, in their schemes of life, a greater va- 
riety of voluntary actions, which they expect, from 
the proper motives, to cooperate with their own. 
In all these conclusions tkei/ fake their measures 
from past ejcpei^ience, in the same manner as in their 
reasonings concerning external objects ; and firmly 
believe that men, as well as all the elements, are to 
continue in their operations, the same, that they 
have ever found them. — In short, this experimental 
inference and reasoning concerning the actions of 
others, enters so much into human life, that no man, 
while awake, is ever a moment without employing 
it!" 

Section X. 

" On Miracles:' 

In this Section, alluding to Tillotson's argument 
against the real presence, he says, " I flatter my- 
self that I have discovered an argument of a like 
nature, which, if just, will, with the wise and learn- 
ed, be an everlasting check to all kinds of supersti- 
tious delusion, and consequeptly will be useful as 
long as the world endures." This redoubtable 

argur 



OF MR. HUME. 319 

argument is founded on his doctrine of experi- 
ence. 

Though experience be our only guide in rea- 
soning about matters of fact, it must be acknow- 
ledged that this guide is not altogether infaUible, 
but in some cases is apt to lead us into error." 

This is a confession it was not natural to expect. 
It may be urged, that if experience be our only 
guide, what other evidence can be adduced which 
discovers that experience itself has led us into an 
error ? There must be some other guide, or ex- 
periences must hold a parley among themselves, to 
ascertain which shall be entitled to the direction. 
To preserve appearances, he prefers the latter. 

" A wise man (.he says ) proportions his belief 
to the evidence. In such conclusions as are founded 
on an infallible experience, he expects the event 
with the last degree of assurance : and regards his 
past experience as a full proof of the future ex- 
istence of that event. In other cases he proceeds 
with more caution. He considers which side is 
supported by the greater number of experiments. 
To that side he inclines, without a doubt or hesita- 
tion." 

It now appears, that although experience is our 
only guide, yet as some experiences prove one 
thing, and some another, the best method is to make 
as many as we can on each side, and close the poll 

by 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



by counting the number&. No attention is here 
paid to the nature and accuracy of our experiments, 
or of our deductions from them* 

In a preceding Section it was the object of this 
consistent reasoner to prove, that belief is totally 
independent of evidence ; that it consists of a pe- 
culiar kind of inexplicable feeling : it now appears, 
that a wise man proportions his belief to the e'vi- 
dence; consequently he is not a wise man who con- 
founds his feelings with his belief. This wise man 
is now permitted to regard his past experience as a 
PULL PROOF of the future existence of that event : 
it is but lately that he was informed, that the past 
is no rule for the future, and that suspicion alone 
renders all experience useless ! 

In a subsequent page or two of this Section, it 
suits the purpose of our versatile philosopher to 
argue rationally; but he soon relapses into the ab" 
surdities of his system. He says, " When the fact 
attested is such a one as has seldom fallen under 
our observation, here is a contest of two opposite 
e.rperiences, of which the one destroys the other, as 
far as its force goes, and the superior can only ope- 
rate upon the mind by the force which remains/' 

If this writer had paid due attention to the uni- 
versal signification of experience, he would have 
found that it is totally different from that which he 
has placed, as the basis of his argument. It never 

has 



OF MR. IltME. 521 

has been, nor can be, applied to our belief in the 
truth of a narratim. Experience is confined to 
our own personal knowledge of facts derived from 
the sense of seeing, hearing, feeling, &c. These 
facts may be discovered incidentally, or be the re- 
wards of experiments and trials intentionally made. 
I cannot experience that a man tells me a false- 
hood, excepting he assures me that I am ill of a 
fever, and incapable of any exertions, when I know 
that I am well and busily engaged ; or, that a per- 
son died last week, whom I saw yesterday, — or 
some other exti'avagance contradicted by my own 
senses. But should / have frequently detected his 
falsehood, my own Experience convinces me that 
no credit is to be given to his assertions. Or, if a 
friend, in whose veracity I may confide, informs 
me that he has had this kind of experience, I admit 
of his experience as competent evidence ; but the 
experience is his^ not mine. Again, 

When an individual has experienced a fact, he 
is fully convinced of its truth. Another person, 
or multitudes of others, not having experienced 
the same, is no evidence against the fact alleged. 
Their negatives cannot destroy his positive. They 
do not maintain that they have experienced the 
contrary ; they confess that they have had no ex- 
perience of a similar nature. Will the inhabitants 
of a salubrious climate claim a right to deny the 

Y pos- 



322 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



possible existence of an epidemic disease, because 
they liave had uninterrupted health ? It is, there- 
fore, as ridiculous to talk of a preponderancy of 
experience, in such cases, as it is seriously to ex- 
pect that the emptiness and levity of one • scale, 
should counterbalance all the weights of another. 

Were I to be informed that a man of exemplary 
integrity and benevolence has committed a robbery 
and murder, every action of his former life having 
been of a character directly opposite, I may 
justly suppose that the accusation is false and scan- 
dalous ; but it is impossible for me to e.vperie?2ce 
that he has not committed the robbery and mur- 
der. Nor w^ill my personal experience of his bene- 
volent acts and upright dealings, be admitted as 
entire proofs of his innocence of the charge alleged : 
were such an argument considered as valid in a 
court of judicature, no man could be convicted of 
a first offence. 

It is, therefore, manifest, that the whole of this 
newly discovered argument, which is to be useful as 
long as this world endures, is founded on a gross 
and palpable error, arising either from a studied 
perversion, or absolute ignorance, of the English lan- 
guage. 

But although inexperience has no more right to 
enter the lists against experience, than non-exist- 
ences have to lift up a voice against actual existence^ 

yet 



OF MR. HUME. 323 

yet it is obvious, that the experience of an indivi- 
dual, or of a circumscribed number of individuals, 
is not coQipetent to render a maxim iinlversal. It 
can extend no further than to possibilities or proba- 
bilities. Numerous are the instances in which some 
persons may experience a particular effect from a 
given cause, while the experience of others shall be 
dissimilar or opposite. ' In such caseSj a decision 
can be made by the judgement alone. This must 
examine the pretensions of every experimentalist ; 
weigh the experience of each in an impartial ba- 
lance ; give it a due degree of importance ; and, 
finally, decide to which the honour of introducing a 
general maxim is to be assigned ; and which is a 
singular, though perhaps, for the time, an inexpli- 
cable exception. 

The inefficiency of very extensive experience to 
establish an universal proposition, is acknowledged 
by our author in his assertion, "that the Indian 
prince, w4io refused to believe the first account given 
him of the extraordinary effect of frost, reasoned 
justly!^ The report of water becoming as hard 
as a stone, in certain seasons of the year, naturally 
rendered him incredulous ; because the universal 
experience of persons in the torrid zone, is, that 
■water remains fluid at every season : but instead of 
[reasoning as is here asserted, he argued most 

erroneouslii . A voyage to North America would 

Y 2 soon 



324 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



soon have convinced him that he had been precipi- 
tate and unphilosophical, in laying that down as a 
maxim universally operative, of v^hich subsequent 
experience proved that its influence was limited to 
certain districts. 

Our philosopher's ideas concerning the nature of 
experience must not, however, be confuted ; they 
are indispensably necessary for the support of his 
curious argument against the possibility of a mi- 
racle. For instance : 

In order to increase the probability against the 
testimony of witnesses, let us suppose that the fact 
which they aflirm, instead of being only marvellous, 
is really miraculous ; and suppose, also, that the tes- 
timony considered a part, and in itself, amounts to 
an entire proof; in that case there is proof against 
proof, of which the strongest must prevail, but still 
with a diminution of its force, in proportion to that 
of its antagonist." 

We shall Jirst observe, that it will appear to 
those who admit the validity of our reasoning, con- 
cerning the nature of experience, that the zVzexpe- 
rience of myriads cannot be adduced as a proof 
against the existence of a miracle. A miracle is 
professedly an EXTRAORDINARY event This 
philosopher teaches us, that unless an extraor- 
dinary event happens frequently^ it is philosophical 
to deny its existence altogether ! Nay, it must hap- 

pea 



OF MR. HUME. 



3QS 



pen very frequently, or there will be an immense 
majority against it ! 

Secondly, I must suspect that the strong mind 
of Mr. Hume knew, that, in the manner of his state- 
ment, he was gravely asserting an absurdity. You 
might as well place contrary demonstrations in op- 
position tx) each other, in a geometrical problem, 
as entire proofs against entire proofs in moral rea- 
soning ! All the lovers of truth shout aloud. Magna 
est Veritas, et prevalebit. Mr. Hume also acknow- 
ledges that it will prevail, though opposed by entire 
proofs to the contrary ! But alas ! it may go off 
the field, like a modern conqueror in the noble 
science of pugilism, deplorably mangled by the 
strength of an antagonist ! and yet, if a conquered 
proof can remain entire, after it has mangled its 
conqueror, surely it ought to come off triumphant 
also ! ! But we now proceed to his tremendous at- 
tack : — it commences in the following manner : 

" A miracle is a "violation of the laws of nature ; 
and as a firm and unalterable experience has esta- 
blished these laws, the proof against a miracle, from 
the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argu- 
ment from experience can possibly be imagined." 

It is very convenient for a philosopher to assert 
what he pleases, and as he pleases ; and it is ne- 
cessary that Mr. Hume should take the liberty, as 



326 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



an indemnification for that abstruse mode of rea- 
soning, destined to confound common sense, which 
must at times fatiw,e his brains. But it is a new 
and singular maxim in physics, that firm and un- 
alterable Experience should have established the 
laws of nature. To say that our knozvledge of the 
laws of nature is confirmed by universal experience, 
is much more intelligible. It would certainly be 
deemed incumbent upon a common genius to ex- 
plain, upon what principle Experience can establisli 
the laws of nature, when it was professedly proved 
in a former Section, that past experience has no 
kind of connexion with any thing future ! But this 
uncommon genius has taken out a special license 
to say uncommon things. Let me ask, What are 
we to understand by unalterable Experience ?—- -Is it 
not absolute nonsense ? But there is a slijism in this 
expression : it means to insinuate, that no subse- 
quent experience can invalidate the preceding, and 
therefore deserves no attention. At this moment 
Mr. Humie forgets the doctrine and arguments 
founded upon it, that past experience cannot be a 
rule for the future. It dexterously transfers, .also, 
to experience^ what properly belongs to the laws of 
nature. They may be unalterable ; but the epithet 
cannot be applied to Experiments and Experiences, 
which may be infinitely various. It will not be ne- 
cessary 



OF MR. HUME. 327 

cessary to expose a second time the absurdity of 
setting one entire proof to destroy another entire 
proof. 

But our philosopher, by his artful definition of a 
miracle, has entrenched his proposition so securely, 
that it will remain in its entrenchments as long as 
we admit the accuracy of the definition. Let us 
acknowledge that a miracle is a violation of the 
laws of nature, and we must suppose that the Deity 
himself has committed a kind of outrage upon his 
own works ; or that some malignant being pos- 
sesses, and occasionally exerts, the power of coun- 
teracting these laws without interruption. In either 
case a miracle becomes incredible. The definition 
is no other than a bold assumption, calculated to 
embarrass believers in the existence of miracles, 
and give a momentary triumph to unbelievers. 

As every man has an equal right to propose his 
definition, I beg leave to substitute the following, to 
which all believers in miracles will give a ready as- 
sent, and which unbelievers cannot confute, until they 
shall have annihilated all the powers above them. 

Whoever admits of the ea:istence of a miracle, 
admits that some phcBnomenon, contrary to our usual 
experience of the course of nature, has suddenly and 
unexpectedly taken place, and been made obvious to 
the senses of individuals, by the immediate agency 
of an intelligent power, superior to man . 



328 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



I shall leave it to others to distinguish between 
the marvellous and miraculous— between the de- 
ceptions of impostors, or the extravagances of 
superstitious credulity, and real miracles. Our 
subject is confined to the possibilitij of a miracle, 
which is so dogmatically denied by this doubting 
philosopher. If the above definition be admitted, 
(and by w hat arguments will it be opposed ?) the 
possibilitii of a miracle cannot be denied, until we 
shall have experienced that no superior agent exists ; 
or that he is destitute of the requisite power ; or that 
in every state of the moral world a miracle is totally 
useless ; or that the intrinsic nature of a miracle 
renders it unworthy of a Deity to perform one. 
But we need not enlarge upon a subject which 
has been so satisfactorily treated by a distinguished 
author 

The above strictures are amply sufficient to show 
the futility of that subtile mode of reasoning which 
pervades the whole of this Section, 

My readers will, by this time, have had so many 
specimens of extravagant and dogmatical assertions, 
bold assumptions of inadmissible principles, self- 
contradictions, propositions advanced, recalled, re- 
assumed to answer particular purposes, that they 

* Douglas on Miracles. 

will 



OF MR. HUME. 



329 



will permit me to close the subject. They will be 
tired of wading through so many absurdities, and 
they will have compassion upon the writer of these 
strictures, who has submitted to the arduous task 
of detecting so many dangerous errors, studiously 
enveloped in obscurity. Such labour, though in- 
teresting for a time, finally becomes irksome. It 
closely resembles the attempts of active minds to 
explain the charades, riddles, rebuses of an alma- 
nack. But it is with this characteristic difference, — 
It is their pleasing occupation to discover latent 
sense, disguised under the appearance cf nonsense : — 
our metaphysician has devoted his superior talents, 
to embarrass the human mind with abstract sub- 
tilties, and specious reasonings, which, upon a su- 
perficial reading, have the appearance oi good sense, 
but which severe investigation discovers to be ab-. 
solute nonsense! 

The Section on Providence and a Future State, 
being written in the same strain, neither requires 
nor deserves a comment. He again attempts to 
deprive mankind of all the advantages which might 
be derived from former experience ; to show its 
incompetency to detect former errors ; and to com- 
pel the wanderer through life, to be contented with 
the commencement and termination of every di- 
stinct experiment. Thus he philosophically places 

the 



530 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



the human species upon a level with servile qua- 
drupeds, destined to travel in rugged roadsj by the 
aid of a small field of light before them, with 
palpable darkness all around I He permits also 
conceited ignorance to make the contracted limits 
of its knowledge, the leo^itimate measure of the di- 
vine perfection ! ! Such is the character of the Sec- 
tion on Providence ! 

In these miserable attempts he has no longer the 
courage to propose his sophisms in his own person, 
he gives them over to pagans ; and leaves the con- 
test in the hands of his barbarian allies. In this, 
he has acted discreetly ; for we have fully proved, 
that our metaphysician's mode of reasoning gives 
him no title to contend openly with a Lbcke^ a 
Hartkij, qai Abernet/ii/, sl Hatcheson, and number- 
less others, whose arguments in defence of a Pro^ 
vidence and a future state, are unassailable by such 
Mvolities. 

No man admires the talents of I\Ir. Hume more 
than the writer of these remarks ; and no man more 
sincerely laments his abuse of them. His conduct 
and his motives appear to be inexplicable. His 
capacity to reason justly is indubitable; his dispo- 
sition to perplex is equally indubitable. It is highly 
probable that he began in jest, simply with an in- 
tention to perplex that class of dogmatists, who 

were 



OF MR. HUME. 



331 



were perpetually boasting of their demonstrations, 
upon subjects where they did not always enjoy a 
preponderancy of evidence. No part of his other 
writings indicate such vain boastings, open con- 
tradictions, and contrarieties, as arc manifest in 
every part of this celebrated Essay ; at a detection 
of which he would probably have smiled ; and he 
must have felt a surprise equal to lus triumph, when 
his artifices remained undiscovered. Mr. Hume 
was too wise a man not to know that, under his sy- 
stem, no philosopher can breathe a moment. It is a 
metaphysical azote^ wnich immediately extinguishes 
every spark of reasoning. The professed object of 
all philosophy, is to discover truth by the investiga- 
tion of facts, and by tracing causes and effects 
through the intricate extent of their operations. A 
man wrapt up in his own sensations and impres- 
sions, cannot philosophize. His sole occupation 
must consist in amusing himself with his own mimic 
ideas. But he seemed, in the issue, to have been 
caught in the snare he had laid for others. He com- 
menced with the attempt to perplex the philoso- 
phic world, until he ultimately perplexed himself. 
Habituated to contradict every principle advanced 
by dogmatists, totally inattentive to the force of any 
argument, and eagerly seizing every foible, the cur- 
rent of his own ideas incessantly ran in the opposite 
direction, until our philosopher himself was carried 

with 



33^ ON THE METAPHYSICS 



with the stream. These conjectures are considera- 
bly strengthened by the effects so frequently ob- 
servable in disputing societies : where the reasoner 
of one evening does not feel himself bound, by 
any of the assertions or sophisms advanced in a 
preceding : where his whole attention is directed to 
the vulnerable parts of an opponent s argument, and 
to giving full emphasis to his own objections, until 
he is finally caught in the webs of his own sophistry. 

It too clearly appears, however, that our philo- 
sopher was not always in jest. The following soli- 
loquy evinces, that he had been playing with a dan- 
gerous instrument, by which his own feelings were 
deeply w^ounded. • 

" I am affrighted and, confounded with that for^ 
lorn solitude in w4iich I am placed in my philosor 
phy. When I look abroad, J foresee, on every 
side, dispute, contradiction, and distraction ; when 
I turn my eyes inward, I find nothing but doubt 
and ignorance. Where am I, or what? Fron:i 
what causes do I derive my existence, and to what 
condition do I return ? I am confounded with these 
questions, and begin to fancy myself in the m^ost 
deplorable condition injaginable, environed with 
the deepest darkness * !" 

Although these confessions were expunged from 
the later editions, they are a standing memorial, of 

* See Treatise on Human Nature, vol. i. p, 458. 

the 



OF MR. HUME, 

the melancholy state of his mind at particular sea- 
sons, manifesting the natural tendf^ncy, and mourn- 
ful consequences, of his principles. He has foil that 
obscurity is painful to the mind as well as to the 
eye ; and he has personally e.vpei^ienced that his 
philosophy is not calculated to bring that light 
which must needs be delightful and rejoicing." 

Our great admiration of Mr. Hume's intellectual 
powers, induces us to lament, that they were so ill 
employed ; that his ambition to acquire literary 
fame, should be founded on the subversion of the 
best principles that can actuate mankind. Nor 
ought the insidious and treacherous manner, in 
which this attempt has been frequently made, to 
escape the severest reprehension. 

The theory he is so anxious to establish, respect- 
ing the manner in which ideas are formed in the 
mind, and the inferences deduced from his positions, 
appear, at first, to be purely speculative. No im- 
portant consequences present .themselves, on a cur- 
sory view, upon the acceptance or rejection of the 
principles advanced. But it becomes obvious, in 
the sequel, that more is meant than meets the eye. 
We are led on to doubt whether these impressions 
proceed from an external cause, or whether they be 
solely the suggestions of the individual mind. If 

this 



334 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



this insulation of our mental powers be admitted, 
we are prepared to admit also, that the existence of 
external substances may be ideal. No man can be 
certain of the existence of any other being in the 
universe but himself. Nothing can be proved, of 
which we are not conscious, or which cannot be 
subjected to mathematical demonstration. 

Even such sentiments seem to be more whimsi- 
cal than dangerous. Our philosopher himself en- 
deavours to prove their innocence. He acknow- 
ledges that nature will always maintain her rights, 
and prevail in the end over any abstract reasoning 
whatever : that the subject belongs to philosophy 
alone, whose supreme delight is placed in discover- 
ing the encouraging, exhilarating truth, that we know 
nothing, but our own imiorance ! 

Respecting worldly concerns, the apology may 
. perhaps be allowed. For, although his sceptical 
writings have been so extensively read and admired, 
yet every one, ^^ithout exception, continues to act 
in all secular affairs as usual. Every man pursues 
the numerous objects of life, as if he were fully con- 
vinced of their reality ; and expects that they should, 
in various ways, contribute to his well-being, with- 
out the least hesitation. Every one visits his friends, 
and enjoys their company, without harbouring a 
suspicion that the whole may be a delusion. He 
eats his bread, in the full expectation that it will be 

as 



OF MR. HUME. 



335 



as nutritious to-clay as it was yesterday ; although 
he will own his ignorance of the arcana of nutrition. 
Thus far the whim may appear innocent. But the 
consequences of these sceptical speculations extend 
to different subjects. The speculator has himself 
erected them as batteries against the existence of a 
future state, and the being of a God. Now, as 
principles of tiiis description are very distinct from 
mundane affairs ; as they are not the objects of 
sense ; nor do they occasion any corporeal impres- 
sions or sensations, — they do not se?7sitiveii/ oppose 
themselves as antagonists to the principles of the 
philosopher. These have full swing, as it were, in 
an atmosphere of intangibles, like the motion of the 
hand in unresisting sether, the existence of which is 
imperceptible. As Faith, or belief, is totally distinct 
from immediate perception, or absolute conscious- 
ness ; as it is derived from a different source; as 
it refers to subjects not obvious to the senses, it 
demands express application of mind ; a voluntary 
attention. In these subjects the mind is not im- 
periously acted upon, in a manner experienced from 
sensible objects ; and whatever has a tendency to 
discourage this application ; to weaken or destroy 
belief, inevitably deprives it of all those advantages, 
consolations, and motives, which might have re- 
sulted from confirmed and influential faith. 

It is kmr that, the mischief bec-^mes obvious. It 

is 



B36 



ON THE METAPHYSICS 



is here that doubts are both comfortless and dan- 
gerous. The influence of present objects is inv 
mensely great. This is proved by their prepondera- 
ting so frequently over much greater good placed at 
a distance ; although the existence of this good, is 
not a subject of doubt. The influence of all sensi- 
ble objects is immensely great, because they force 
themselves upon us. They unll be seen, they xcitl 
be heard, tliey icill be felt. The influence of things 
absent, remote, invisible, can only be exerted wJien 
the mind is disposed to advert to them ; and to take 
them under mature consideration. This disposition 
is best promoted by a conviction of their superior 
Importance to all the objects of sense. The intro- 
duction of habitual doubts, and of specious objeG- 
tions, necessarily weakens the conviction, relaxes 
application, and fosters a desponding indifference. 

Yet, if men were always consistent with them- 
selves, the danger of Mr. Hume's principles would 
be diminished, if not destroyed. A consistent mind 
w^ould argue in this manner : Every thing sur- 
rounding me, every pursuit in life, the habitual and 
successful use of means, act upon my mind, in direct 
opposition to Mr. Hume's principles. He admits 
that they ought not to interfere with human affairs ; 
and I experience that the transactions of every day 
are practical confutations of them. I perceive, that 
were I to follow his advice, and doubt of every fact, 

the 



OF MR. HUME. 337 

the truth of which I cannot demonstrate^ it would 
be to induce a paralysis upon the mind and body. 
It is impossible to act upon doubt. Doubt is ab- 
solute stagnation. If I permit the mere possibility 
of a failure, to check my exertions, when I perceive 
probabilities are greatly in my favour, I no longer 
maintain the character of a doubter, but am acting 
upon my belief of a contrary principle, infinitely 
more dangerous and uncertain. 

If, therefore, I act upon his principles, I shall 
deserve the character which he gives to all his con- 
sistent disciples, that of being fools and madmen ; 
if I perceive that they are totally inapplicable, in 
sublunary affairs, shall I trust them for a moment 
upon subjects of infinitely greater importance ? It 
is much safer to direct these sceptical principles 
against his own hypothesis. I will avail myself of 
his maxim, that " whatever is intelligible implies no 
contradiction, and can never be proved false by abs- 
tract reasoning." The existence of a great first 
cause, the existence of a future state, the existence 
of a revelation, the existence of miracles to prove 
that it is a revelation, — are all intelligible proposi- 
tions, and imply no contradiction : and since he al- 
lows that nature will always maintain her rights, 
and prevail, in the end, over any abstract reasoning 
whatever, the notion of a Supreme Being, of our 
being the creatures of his power, rational and re- 

Z sponsible. 



338 ON THE METAPHYSICS OF MR. HUME, 



sponsible^, impressed with an inextinguishable desire 
after permanent existence, and permanent happi- 
ness, are principles so natural to man, that it is as 
absurd as it is dangerous, to permit intricate and 
obscure sophistry to exert a baneful influence re- 
specting these subjects, when it is rejected with a 
(Smile, upon subjects of infinitely less importance," 



SPECULATION VII. 

WHElSrCE ARE OUR IDEAS OF MORAL OBLI- 
GATIOlSr DERIVED ; AND WHAT IS THE 
JINAL CAUSE OF THE OBLIGATION? 



341 



SPECULATION VII. 

WHENCE ARE OUR IDEAS OF MORAJL OBLIGA- 

Tlox derived; and what is the final 

CAUSE OF THE OBLIGATION? 

Man is universally considered as a moral agent ; 
and moral agency is referred^ by universal consent, 
to certain principles and actions, of a class very di- 
stinct from those which govern inferior animals, or 
have the mere existence of the human species, and 
the personal accommodation of individuals, for their 
professed object. But many circumstances relating 
to moral agency are involved in obscurities ; many 
questions present themselves, which deserve an an- 
swer, and which have received so many answers of 
different imports, that, although they may have illu- 
minated some parts of the subject, they have thrown 
a mist over others. 

What is virtue? What is vice, moral goodness, 
moral depravity ? What is right and wrong ? What 
is the criterion of right and wrong ? Upon what ar^ 
founded the approbation and disapprobation of the 
various actions of intelligent agents ? In the practice 
of virtue, is the mind actuated by a sense^ or senti- 
ment, by reason, by interest, by benevolence f These, 

and 



ON MORAL 



and many other questions of a similar nature, have 
occupied the attention of moral philosophers in every 
age : and yet no principles have been discovered and 
adopted, to the general satisfaction. Numerous are 
the instances, in common life, of the most accurate 
discrimination between virtuous and vicious actions ; 
the warmest approbation has accompanied the for- 
mer, and the strongest marks of disapprobation, the 
latter ; but when we apply ourselves to a minute in- 
quiry into the reason of things, to the whi/ such di- 
stinctions are made and sanctioned, we find our- 
selves surrounded with difficulties, which greatly 
perplex, and frequently mislead. 

Such obvious contrarieties would be truly sur- 
prising, were they confined to moral subjects : but 
they are common to every subject of research ; foi' 
no researches could be necessary, did the reason of 
things always appear to be self-evident. General 
features may be obvious to all men ; general prin- 
ciples are acted upon, to a certain extent, without 
confusion ; but when we would examine minute par- 
ticulars, with a kind of microscopic eye, this eye, 
instead of rendering the objects more clear and con- 
spicuous, too often magnifies some difficulties^ and 
discovers many others which were not observable 
to common optics. Every one is, to a certain de- 
gree, a physiognomist ; even young children have a 
nice discernment of a difference in character, on the 

first 



OBLIGATION. 



343 



first appearance of a stranger, and will attach them- 
selves to one and shun the other, totally ignorant of 
the cause ; nor has philosophy as yet fully discovered 
the true principles of the science. 

Those two words, Liberty, Equality, respecting 
the importance of which there is not a dissentient 
voice, have set the w^hole w^orld in flames, because 
no definition has been - discovered, which has fully 
explained their nature, and ascertained their boun-- 
daries; and individual opinions have been advanced 
and defended, at the point of the bayonet, and by 
parks of artillery. 

The human mind is, however, disposed to spe- 
culate. It enjoys a pleasure, and feels a dignity, in 
speculation ; and speculation, when properly con- 
ducted, must be beneficial. Much incidental good 
has been produced by researches, which may not 
have been successful, respecting their grand desi- 
derata : and although a speculative disposition is 
not unfrequently productive of error, yet it is a 
much more prolific parent of truth. It sometimes 
discovers important truths in a primary research ; 
and it discovers various others in the detection of 
errors advanced. Now, as all truths have a per- 
manency in their nature, these may accumulate to 
an incalculable extent ; whereas errors must neces- 
sarily decrease, in exact proportion as genuine know- 
ledge increases. Free discussion must, of conse- 
quence. 



344 



ON MORAL 



quence, be most advantageous to truth, and most 
fatal to error. 

Although the subject before us is surrounded with 
many difficulties, yet every difficulty acknowledges 
the dignity of virtue, and its high importance ta 
the general welfare. To. these are our minds in- 
cessantly directed, in every stage of our inquiries ; 
and we are made to feel, with increased force, our 
obligations to practise it, though we should continue 
to dispute upon what these obligations are found- 
ed. If this be the case, the subject cannot be too 
minutely investigated. 

It may be asserted of morals, as well as of reli- 
gion, that their high importance contributes to the 
difficulties of investigation. Every thing surround- 
ing virtue and morality is of considerable moment. 
Embarrassing questions arise concerning preceden- 
cy ; which principle ought to be regarded as pri- 
mary, which subordinate : where shall we lay the 
foundation, and with what materials ? The terms 
. virtue and morality, concerning which so many 
things are to be predicated, have not uniformly the 
same signification ; for sometimes the one may be 
u§ed with superior propriety, sometimes the other * 
nor have moralists agreed among themselves, con^ 
cerning the precise signification of either. As sub- 
servient to practice, they are sufficiently intelligible.. 
Respecting those actions or dispositions,in common 



OBLIGATlOTSr. 



345 



life, to which they are applicable, they may be pro- 
miscuously used, without any confusion of ideas ; 
and we should deem it superfluous to aim at nice 
discriminations, every time they are used ; but when 
we would investigate the specific nature of each, 
we discover difficulties which were imperceivable in 
common phraseology. 

A distinguished writer upon morals*, supposes 
that, "if morality had been examined, studied, and 
explained, with as much care and accuracy as some 
other sciences have been, its main principles bad 
long ago been set in as clear a light as any proposi- 
tion in Euclid." It is to be lamented, that he did 
not adopt this method, instead of exerting the whole 
force of his genius to the establishment of a favour- 
ite hypothesis. 

The assertion, however, coincides with the opi- 
nions we have advanced and endeavoured to enforce 
in a preceding Speculation. Whether or not w^e shall 
be able to arrive at absolute demonstration, in ethi- 
cal subjects, it is apparent that no mode of proceed- 
ing can promise greater success, than that we have 
attempted to recommend in our inquiries after truth 
in general : — a suspension of every preconceived 
hypothesis ; — a careful assemblage of all those cir- 
cumstances, which have any degree of influence upor^ 
the subject; — a critical attention to the specific 
meaning of every word employed ; — a determina- 

* Balguy. 

tion 



34^6 



ON MORAL 



tion to advance no principle that is either conjee^ 
tural, or equivocally expressed, and to give to each its 
appropriate station, and just degree of influence. 

This is the method I shall attempt to follow in 
the ensuing inquiry. My hopes of succeeding, in 
any degree, are solely founded upon a resolute ad- 
herence to this plan. The attempt is made with a 
trembling pen ; as it requires strict attention to va- 
rious minute circumstances, and accuracy in all. I 
hope to escape essential errors, and the candid 
reader will overlook incidental mistakes. The bold 
attempt may perhaps enable as well as induce others 
to follow the same track, with more success and ac- 
ceptance. A small glimmering taper has sometimes 
given light to a lamp of great brilliancy, and very 
extensive powers. 

The questions concerning virtue and morality are 
generally stated in the following manner; IVhat is 
the foundation of mrtiie ? What is the foundation 
of moral goodness ? Or, On what is moral obliga- 
tion founded ? These questions have been deemed 
synonymous; and they all direct to the pursuit after 
some one principle, from which every other is to 
proceed. This principle is to constitute the cha- 
racter, and, as it were, the essence of every action, 
and every disposition in moral agency. To the 
questions thus stated, various solutions have been 
given, which, instead of being received with uni- 
versal satisfaction, have generated ncAv subjects of 

dispute. 



OBLIGATION. 



347 



dispute. Hence a suspicion arises, that there must 
be something obscure in a statement, which has 
called forth answers of the most opposite charac- 
ters ; and if we pay attention to these queries, we 
may perhaps discover the causes of such diversi- 
ties, by a discovery that tlie terms in which the 
queries are proposed, are not adapted to convey ac- 
curate or definite ideas of the subject in pursuit. 

We shall first observe, that the word foundation 
is merely a metaphor, and as such is liable to con- 
siderable ambiguit3^ The province of a metaphor 
is solely to illustrate or to enforce a subject ; and 
its significations are too vague to be trusted as the 
basis of a proposition of any kind. We may also 
observe, that, until we shall have obtained clear ideas 
in what virtue and morality consist, we shall be un- 
certain whether the term Foundation be applicable 
to either; and unless virtue and morality be per- 
fectly synonymous in their import, there is as great 
probability that it cannot be applied to both. It 
is as necessary to form just ideas of a Superstruc- 
ture, as it is of a Foundation ; and it is premature 
to inquire after the latter, until we know something 
satisfactory of the former. 

Those who admit of the distinctions we have en- 
deavoured to establish between virtue and mora- 
lity*, w^ill immediately perceive the impropriety of 

* See Eth. Treat, vol. ii. p. 97. 

a question 



348 



ON Moil A L 



a question concerning the foundation of "virtue. If 
virtue be considered in the light of a beneficial 
power, designedly exerted by a rational being, in 
cases of invariable importance, it must be allowed, 
that the question is absurd. The term founda- 
tion is totally inapplicable to power of any kind. 
The seat of power, the source of power, are perfectly- 
intelligible ; but as power is an emanation, and not 
an edifice, as it relates to acts and energies, to mo- 
tions and changes, it has no affinity with a founda- 
tion, which always conveys the idea of an immu- 
table basis, to support a something placed and rest- 
ing upon it. The statement of the question thus 
becomes confused, and indefinite ; and therefore we 
cannot be certain of the propriety of any soluftion 
proposed. 

The foundation of mortals is somewhat more in- 
telligible, but it is not sufficiently definite. The ex- 
pression may still be understood in various senses ; 
and what appears to be an answer to the one, may 
not be to the other, nor to the meaning of the pro- 
poser. The inquiry equally respects mofwe and 
obligation^ which are in themselves very distinct, 
and may sometimes be opposite principles. The 
term seeks after some one permanent principle ; 
but motives are extremely various, and may be de- 
rived from various principles. If the query seeks 
after that principle which makes the practice of mo- 
rality 



OBLIGATION". 



S43 



rality obligator]/ upon intelligent agents, it has been 
egregiously misunderstood by diflerent moralists, 
most of whose answers have a much closer relation 
to motives than to duties ; and in their researches 
they have attempted to establish some one predo- 
minant motive, to which others are rendered sub- 
ordinate. 

Finally, as one single principle is the ostensible 
object of inquiry, the solution must be extremely 
difficult; for motives and obligations may be va- 
rious, and exert various kinds and degrees of in- 
fluence. 

That these are not captious or frivolous objec- 
tions, is plain from the indubitable fact, that the 
expressions have not been clearly understood. One 
moralist considers the question as referring to the 
principle, which ought to act ; another to the prin- 
ciple, which does act. Some refer it to the Deiti/, 
and inquire after the principle by which he is ac- 
tuated in the moral government of the world; others 
to the rational beings subjected to his government. 
These different points of view have divided moral 
philosophers into distinct classes, according to the 
theories adopted. Some expatiate upon the Na- 
ture and Fitness of things, eternal reason, &c. : 
others speak of the Beauty of virtue, of a Sense of 
virtue, and moral sense, as the basis of obligation ; 
others lay the foundation in the authority of a Su- 
perior, 



550 



ON MORAL 



perior, or the will of God ; others search for it in 
Self-interest. Thus is the term foundatmi some- 
limes applied to a first principle, which ought to 
prevail ; and at others, to some leading principle, 
which acts as an inducement in the moral agent, 
the motive which is the most ohvious and the most 
influential. 

But let us examine the principal answers to the 
grand question, What is the foundation of virtue^ 
or of moral obligation ? and we shall perceive that 
the texm foundation is totally inapplicable to them. 

When Self-interest is proposed, the prominent 
idea is immediately directed to the leading motive ; 
notwithstanding the incongruity of confounding mo- 
tives of any kind with foundations. And this lead- 
ing motive consists in doing that which I conceive 
to be most beneficial to myself, without suggests 
ing the idea of an obligation ; and so far from 
being peculiar to virtue, it is of all others the most 
general principle of action. Allowing the term to 
be admissible, it is equally the foundation of vice, 
as of virtue. It is the sole motive of action in \ i- 
cious characters ; and it is operative in every pur- 
suit which respects ourselves, though it should be 
neither virtuous nor vicious in its nature. 

Conformity to reason is not the exclusive cha- 
racteristic of virtuous conduct, and consequently is 
not the one principle we are searching after. There 



OBLIGATION. 



351 



are many actions conformable to reason, which are 
not enrolled among the virtues. Reason is that 
mental faculty, by the proper exercise of which we 
arrive at the knowledije of those truths which are 
not the objects of sense. It is the directory of a 
wise man upon every subject which demands his 
attention ; and it will distinguish wisdom from foll}^, 
much more explicitly than virtue from vice. Here, 
also, the impropriety of statement is most obvious. 
Though no one ouglit to act irrationally, reason 
has never been considered as the foundation of his 
acting rightly. There m^ust be some other principle 
to which reason refers, and by which virtuous con- 
duct is distinguished fi^om various other acts of ra- 
tionalit}^ It enables us to discriminate between 
virtuous actions and their opposites ; it commands 
us to perform the one, and avoid the other ; it ap' 
proves or condemns, according as its dictates are 
obeyed or neglected. Thus it discovers fundamen- 
tal principles of action, but it is very remote n^om 
being a fundamental principle itself. 

Truth has for its primary object the existence of 
facts, and thus it may furnish materials for build- 
ing, without becoming a foundation. Whenever 
truth is considered as a foundation of any kind, no 
reference is made to the abstract principle itself, 
but to certain facts discovered to be truths, and 
upon these we may safely build. Truths, in this 

sensCj 



35£ 



ON MORAL 



sense, are the foundations of all knowledge, and of 
all right practice ; but not of particular actions, 
any more than falsehood and error are the founda- 
tions of vice. It is the pj^opriety of the action, 
which relates to a fundamental principle, and not 
the action itself. Right conduct refers to some 
principle which constitutes right conduct, and truth 
refers to the accuracy of the principle whence the 
action flows. We never perform virtuous deeds, be- 
cause they are detached truths ; or reprobate vice, 
merely because it is an error of the judgement. 
But the principles themselves, which authorize us to 
love and practise the one, and to hate and avoid 
the other, must be founded in truth, or the whole 
of virtue would prove a deception. 

The nature of things, is a vague phrase. The 
things must be known, before we can judge of their 
nature. Their natures can only be known by their 
properties ; and when these are known, we may de- 
cide whether they be proper for a foundation, but 
not before. 

The fitness of things, is generally united with the 
preceding. But fitness refers to some kind of adap- 
tation. It supposes the existence of a something, 
which has properties requisite for specific objects. 
That which is fit, must be fit for something. But 
this fitness ought not to be buried with the founda- 
tion ; it should pervade every part. The materials 

for 



OBLIGATION". 



353 



for the foundation must be fitted to the support of 
the edifice ; the edifice must be adapted to the 
strength of the foundation ; parts must be fitted to 
parts ; and when the whole is finished, it must be 
fitted to some useful purpose. 

Benevolence has been considered as the founda- 
tion of virtue, but with singular impropriety. It 
confines our attention to the social virtues, leaving 
the personal without any foundation. Benevolence 
is a disposition of mind, prompting to various acts 
of kindness ; but no one has ventured to assert that 
kind actions are built upon a benevolent temper. 
Moreover, benevolence is itself a virtue, and cannot 
be its own foundation. It is a virtue of the most 
elevated kind ; and were we permitted to consider 
the virtues as forming an edifice, benevolence 
ought to be placed on the most elevated station, 
and adorn the column, at a distance the most re- 
mote from the basis. 

Some have proposed the beautij of virtue as its 
foundation. Beauty consists of some obvious and 
striking peculiarities, which attract our attention 
and our love. W e may love and admire, but we 
cannot build upon, beauty. There are different de- 
grees of beauty in virtuous actions, but there cannot 
be various degrees of foundation in the same build- 
ing. 

The will of a Superix)r, even the will of God, 
2 A leaves 



3.54 



OlSr MORAL 



leaves the question in obscurity. This mety be 
considered as the most influential motive to the 
practice of virtue ; but the will of another is never 
considered as Xhe foundation of particular acts, nor 
is it of that principle of obedience, immediately 
productive of the act. There must be something 
peculiar in the will of another, even of the Deity 
himself, to render it fundamentally necessary or ob- 
ligatory to obey him. The m.ere will of anothefy 
even of a Superior, does not give him a title to 
command me ; and 1 must entertain just concep- 
tions of the superior claims of the Deity, before 
I can perceive my obligations to obey him. Nor 
can the will of any one be the foundation of. any 
immediate act, though it may be of the principles 
or motives productive of the action. 

Vice is always placed, by common consent, in 
direct opposition to virtue but what philosopher 
has inquired after its f oundation ? No ingenious 
arguments have been advanced, in proof that this is 
laid in error, in irrationality, in the inaptitude of 
things, in malemlence, in the defonniti/ of vice, or 
in a determined opposition to the divine commands; 
and it w^ould be difficult to evince the propriety of 
one mode of expression, and the impropriety of the 
other. 

Thus it appears, that all the answers given in to 
a question proposed in the form, to which we have 

objected. 



OBLIGATlOlSr. 



355 



objected, are irrelevant, defective, unsatisfactory. 
They present us with a heterogeneous mixture of 
principles. They may incidentally display the im- 
portance of virtue ; but they do not ilhuninate our 
minds, either respecting its speciiic nature, or our 
being under stronger obligations to practise virtue, 
than to perform many other actions, wliich have 
never been considered as virtues. Some of these 
principles bear ihe character of nioikes, as self- 
interest, and the beauty of virtue : some are them- 
selves "virtKes, as benevolence: others assume the 
form oi duties, as the will of Deity, without inform- 
ing us why his will is peculiarly obligatory ; and 
others are abstract principles, as reason, truth, the 
nature and fitness of things ; whose important office 
it is to direct and prepare for action, but of them- 
selves they possess no valuable qualities : for, uncon- 
nected with any other principle, they cannot be of 
the least influence or utility. 

Although the ambiguities suiTounding the ques- 
tion, have prevented an ultimate decision, the va- 
rious and opposite modes of procedure have led 
to the discovery of many ioiportant truths, relative 
to virtue and morality, which might have remained 
in obscurity, had the inquiries been less diversified. 
Of these we shall avail ourselves, and endeavour 
to arrange the principles thus elicited, in an order 

2A2 that 



366 



ox MORAL 



that shall enable thein to support each other, and 
form a compact whole ; in which every intelligent 
Systematic will find that he has contributed mate- 
rially to the building, though unsuccessful in laying 
tlie foundation. 

Whatev.er is of importance, relative to the subject 
of virtue and morals, may be comprised under the 
following particulars : 

I. What is virtue, its specific nature; or what is 
the character inscribed upon every virtuous deed or 
disposition ? 

II. What are we to understand by morality ? in 
what respects is it connected w ith, or distinguished 
from, virtue ? 

III. Wliat constitutes moral obligation, or ren^ 
ders obedience to the law of morals obligatory upon 
mankind ? 

The consideration of these questions will enable 
us to discover, 

ly. What are the proper motives or inducements 
to practise virtue, operative in specific acts ? And, 

V. PFhy is the practice of virtue made obliga- 
tory upon all mankind ? 

These queries seem to threaten an alarming ex- 
tent of investigation ; but as most of the subjects be- 
longing to them have been minutely examined, in a 

work 



OBLlGATIOlSr. 



357 



work to which this is professedly a supplement, 
there will not be a necessity to enlarge under each 
particular. 

I. To the first query, What is virtue? we have 
attempted to give a satisfactory answer We en- 
deavoured to prove that the word virtue, in its most 
comprehensive signification, expresses a salutary 
force ov energy. It is applied to whatever possesses 
an inherent power of a beneficial nature. This 
idea we have illustrated and confirmed by many 
examples. When the term is applied to the human 
race, it implies a voluntary agency in rational and 
intelligent beings, of a beneficial nature; it refers to 
dispositions and exertions, which have a tendency 
to produce good; and it frequently supposes a re- 
solute opposition to some antagonist principle. Vice, 
on the contrary, refers to dispositions and conduct 
which are always of a noxious tendency ; it is the 
*virus of the mind, productive of effects inevitably 
injurious to happiness. 

It has also been observed, that, in consequence of 
the universal desire after well-being, '^^ e soon con- 
tract an affection for the means which are calcu- 
lated to promote it; that we love things which are 
inanimate, and cherish all animated beings, which 
possess the power of benefiting, or of contributing, 
in any respect, to our welfare; and we feel a dread, 

* See Ethical Treatise, vol. ii. p. 98. 

or 



358 ON MORAL 

or a hatred, of ^vhatever tlireatens to injure us. In 
moral agenc}^, both our opinions and our disposi- 
tions are invariably regulated by the conceptions we 
form of the 'agent's character, or of his conduct and 
motives. When we perceive that he is actuated by 
the principles of virtue, we esteem and love ; and 
we entertain very unfavourable opinions of those, 
who are intentionally guilty of any vicious or inju- 
rious action. We may frequently err in our judge- 
ment, we may form \vrong notions concerning- mo- 
tives, or the nature of actions; but it is an universal 
principle, that vrhatever v» e censure, v^e consider as 
an eti/j wliich ought not to have been comiUiitted ; 
and whatever we commend, it is under the idea of 
a good intentionally performed. In proportion as 
Ave advance in our knowledge of conduct, and iii 
our powers of discrimination, do we also Jeel diffe- 
rent degrees of approbation or censure. Actions 
and dispositions, which we pronounce to be good, 
excite the pleasing sensations of respect, esteem, 
veneration, gratitude, admiration, according to the 
various degrees of excellency perceived. Actions 
v. hich we pronounce to be improper, atrocious, and 
malevolent, give rise to the sensations of irrision, 
anger, contempt, indignation, according to the ap- 
parent prevalence of folly, or of moral turpitude*. 
With such sentiments and feelings are intimately 

* S&e Pliil. Treat. Social Principle* 

con- 



OBLIGATION. 359 

connected the ideas of merit, and demerit. We 
readily acknowledge that the lot of the one ought 
to be very different from that of the other : that 
he who seeks happiness by the practice of all the 
personal and social virtues, is entitled to the recom- 
pense to which he aspires ; to personal advantages, 
and to the honour, friendship, and esteem, of those 
who distinguish his worth ; and we deem it right 
and just, that he who designs or wantonly induces 
distress, should himself experience something simi- 
lar to the injuries he commits. 

II. What are we to understand by moraUtij?- — 
This question lias also been answered. In our Trea- 
tise on Ethicks, we applied ourselves to a minute 
investigation of the nature of morals ; and of the 
characteristic difference between virtueand moraliiy. 
We observed, that the term m.orals, was manifestly 
derived irom the mores of the ancients, which ex- 
pressed customs, manners, habits in general; but 
that it was exclusively applied, by the moderns^ 
to those manners and habits which respected tlie 
practice of virtue: since it is upon the practice of 
all the moral virtues that the weliare, and even the 
existence, of society depend. AYe endeavoui'ed to 
prove, that the terms moral and morality, have in- 
variably a reference to certain principles of action ; 
to certain laws, which are deemed ohligc.torij upon 
beino:s considered as moral agents. These laws 

con- 



360 



ON MORAL 



consist of a series of virtues, enjoined upon us as 
the- modes or rules of action conducive to uni- 
versal benefit. Thus is virtue considered as a bene- 
ficial act, designedly performed by an intelligent 
agent, which, beingrendered obligatory, comes under 
the denomination of a lazv, constituting the moral 
law ; in which are united the ideas of certain acts, 
of a specific nature, and the obligations to perform 
them. As Virtue and Vice primarily respect ac- 
tions and dispositions of a beneficial or pernicious 
tendency, in voluntary agents, Morality and Immo- 
mlity suggest to the mind certain principles, by 
which an attention to the one is enjoined upon us, 
and the other is strictly prohibited. Thus do they 
both respect the production of good or of evil, but 
virtue relates immediately to practice^ and morality 
to the injunctive or obligatory principles of con- 
duct. 

The above concise summary will sufficiently in- 
^ dicate the sentiments entertained by the author on 

these important articles : but he ust refer to the 
preceding volumes for a developement of the prin- 
ciples on which they are founded. 

III. What are we to understand by moral obli- 
gation ? — When we were considering this subject, 
in our Ethical Disquisitions, we observed, that the 
term obligation, has, in its common acceptance, two 
very different significations. It is sometimes sub- 
stituted 



OBLIGATION^. 



361 



stituted for the necessity of using certain means in 
order to obtain specific ends. Thus we say, Some 
men are obliged to work hard for a livelihood. He 
was obliged to walk on foot, obliged to go by water, 
&c. In this sense the term may be entirely con- 
fined to the individual agents. When it respects 
morals, it implies a dutj/. It is therefore a relative 
term. Were man in an insulated state, and totally 
unconnected with every other being, he would not 
have a duty to perform. Every act would be re- 
solved into an act of pradence. We should smile 
at the man who professed to be influenced by a deep 
sense of duty to benefit himself Man is a social 
being ; and, as such, he has social duties to practise. 
These are infinitely numerous. Here self-interest is 
not the professed object in view, but the interest of 
others. In the social state, a contrariety of inter- 
ests frequently presents itself, among beings inces- 
santly engaged in the pursuit of good ; and unless 
some other principle were operative, to restrain inor- 
dinate self-love, universal anarchy would ensue, and 
the tyrannic claims of the strongest would prevail, 
to the subversion of all order and happiness. With 
the principles requisite to check the strong impulse 
of all the selfish passions, and dispose us to attend 
to the intex^ests of our associates, are intimately con- 
nected these ideas of duty and obligation. 

It is well known that the term obligation, literally 

signifies 



562 ON MORAI^ 

sigmues hoiug bound to do something,; and 7/ioral 
obligation sigiiifies, being bound to do something 
for the benefit of another, or in obedience to an in- 
junction. The question is, B}^ zvliat tie, or ties, can 
those who think themselves to be free and volun- 
tary agents, be bound to act, in any case, contrary 
to their inclinations, or to their apparent interests? 
We say lies, in the plural, because v» e are not under 
the necessity of supposing that mankind are obliged 
to perform acknowledged duties by o?2e principle 
only. Various circumstances may render an act 
obligatory ; the simple idea is, that the act must be 
performed. 

The obligatory principle or principles relate to 
something which acts upon the wii/. From him 
who is tree to act, physical power is necessarily ex- 
cluded ; the inouential principle must bind the kv'//; 
it must eiieciually dispose that to act in a particular 
manner. It must be an Inducement which gains 
the ascendancy over every counter inducement, and 
thus becomes the efficient viotive. 

¥/hether every "inducement may finally be re- 
solved into self -interest ^ is not the present question : 
but this is certain, that the most powerful counter- 
poise to inordinate self-love, or to those selfish pro- 
pensities which might prove injurious to others, is 
centred in the perception that unreasonable grati- 
fications will, some way or other, prove injurious 

tu 



OBLIGATIOlSr. 36 s 

to self; and that the securest iP.ethod or augRient- 
ing personal v;^ll-beiiig, consists in paying due at- 
tention to the interests of otiiers. 

In this kind of obligation, which binds self-love 
with social, inordinate self-love is counteracted 
either by a restrictive, or a stinmlating power. The 
one prevents the commission of injuries, the other 
excites to the performance of benehcial acts. 

Obligations and duty being social and relative 
terms, it will be proper to inquire into the nature 
of our connexion with society, and also into the 
habitual application of them, in our social inter-*- 
com'se. 

In all societies there is some specific cause, or 
object of union. The largest number of individuals, 
accidentally assembled together, widiout having 
any object in view, does not constitute a society. It 
is a heterogeneous mullitude, a mob, or a rabbk. 
There must be something in common, to be pur- 
sued, defended, or enjoyed ; in which all are en- 
titled to participate, to a greater or less degree ; some 
leading principles, around which they congregate, 
and which form the basis of their association. This 
common object is always some apparent ^'^?(96''; an 
Advantage superior to what could have been ob- 
tained or enjoyed by individuals, in their individual 
character, or unconnected state. 

But 



564 



ON MORAL 



But as such Communities are formed of mem- 
bers, whose dispositions, characters, habits, may be 
very different, and op{X)site to each other, many 
personal peculiarities must be sacrificed to the ge- 
neral interest; certain natural claims must be re- 
linquished ; and the usual, uncontrolled liberty of 
acting, as will or fancy suggested, must be yielded 
up to the common cause : so that a certain line of 
conduct now becomes obligaton/, upon individual 
members, which was not obligatory in a solitary 
state. 

The order, peace, and harmony of a society, and 
also the secure possession of its particular benefits, 
require that the necessary restraints, and necessary 
duties, should be digested into certain )^ideSj irgula- 
tions, or laxvs ; and these are considered as binding 
upon each member, for the benefit of the whole. 
Whoever, therefore, becomes a member of that 
society, and expects to enjoy its peculiar advantages, 
is brought under an obligation to conform to these 
rules. Such are always the conditions, latent or 
expressed. It is unanimously agreed, that he who 
refractory and disobedient, forfeits his title to the 
common benefits : thus he is compelled, as a member 
of the community, to obey its laws. This consti^ 
tutes, as it were, the birth of obligation. This requi- 
sition is universal : it is a constituent part of all so- 
cieties ; and it is indispensably necessary. These are 

the 



OBLIGATIOi^. 



265 



\he conditions to which a band of robbers are ob- 
liged to submit; although they violate all those 
laws which bind the virtuous and the good. As 
the benefit of the whole depends upon the harmo- 
nious efforts of individuals, every delinquent be- 
comes an enemy to the community. 

The general recompense of conformity will con- 
sist in a participation of the general good ; in the 
unity and respect of its members ; in the full enjoy- 
ment of social intercourse, which is strengtliened 
and promoted by the members being knit together 
by some common object, and they acquire for each 
Other the affection of brethren. Extraordinary ex- 
ertions, and extraordinary acts of service, are re- 
munerated by peculiar honours and emoluments. 
The penalties of disobedience may consist in the 
loss of friendships ; in peculiar marks of disgrace ; 
in pecuniary fines, corporeal sufferings, or, finally, 
in expulsion ; by which, in addition to the igno- 
miny, all the advantages and privileges of the com- 
munity are lost for ever. 

Such are the obligations comnjoo to all societieSy 
being essential to their existence. 

But there are various other obligations, which 
may be considered as collateral, or subordinate. 
Difierent associations have different objects in vievv^; 
are constituted upon different principles, and as- 
sume different forms ; either from incidental causes, 

or 



S66 ON Mqral 

or from the expectation of particular advantages^ 
by adopting one mode in preference to another. 
Such circumstances may constitute various ki?uls 
and r/e«T<?e^ of obligation. 

- To the reputediy Wise and Intelligent is the 
province of drawing up regulations, or of forming 
©flaws, always assigned; as such must be most com- 
petent to the oiiice. This is a service they will be 
disposed to execute, both from a public spirit, and 
from its being peculiarly honourable ; but as it is 
entirely opdonai, the idea of an obligation to en- 
gage in it is inapplicable; but when engaged, they 
are bound, as members of the society, to execute 
the trust with fidelity. 

. Yvhen these laws are digested, received, and en- 
acted, they must be enforced. But as the multi- 
tude cannot enforce the laws upon the multitude, 
competent authoriti) must be invested in the hands 
of individuals, or of some superior, in whom the 
power shall ultimately centre ; and according to 
the nature and extent of the authority, will the ideas 
of oblicfation be reflated. 

The laws now become personified^ as it were ; 
and obedience to rulers^ is considered as syno- 
nymous with obedience of the Icvws. The idea 
of obligation is thus transferred to individuals, 
or to a single member of the community ; and 
the community at large, instead of being im- 
mediately 



OBLIGATIOK. S67 

mediately actuated by the salutary nature and ten- 
dency of the received regulations, are i-abitually 
prone to direct their whole attention to the ed'ccih 
the pozver, and to place their liopes and fears upon 
the personal JavGur or dispkasjure of individria! 
rulers, and towards them will the ideas of obligation 
be chiefly directed. These facts are too feelingly 
illustrated by the frequent abuse of jjower com- 
mitted by a supreme head ; in which he will be 
supported by interested subjects, in opposition to 
the verv la^vs of which he is the orofessed ^yiiar- 
dian. 

In different communities, different kinds and 
degrees of power are possessed by individuals, ac- 
cording to various exigencies, or incidental circum- 
stances. These individuals are distinguished by 
the titles of presidents, chiefs, governors, magi- 
strates, sovereigns, cic. &c. &c. 

In the larger classes of society, consiituting na- 
tions, the rights of sovereignty are claimed and 
conferred in various 'ways. In some countries the 
ruler is periodically appointed, by ti^e sufege of 
the people : in others, the right to govern is con- 
sidered as hcrediiary : in others, it is the result of 
CGJUjuest : in others, government is seized by usur- 
pation. These vaiious sources influence ideas con- 
cerning the nature of obligation. . In the first case, 
the electors bring themselves under a "VGluntarif 

obi illation 



36S 



on MORAL 



obligation to obey the object of their choice ; they 
would violate the laws of consistency and of honour, 
by a refusal : the dissentients are obliged to sub- 
mit to the decisions of the majority, to relinquish 
the society, or to suffer the penalties decreed. In 
the second case, the hereditary right to govern ac- 
cording to the laws of the land, creates an obliga- 
tion upon the subject not to disturb the state by 
seditious practices ; and those who are born under 
the government, inherit the obligation to obey its 
laws. In these instances, the will or the disposi- 
tions of the subject may be in unison with his duty ; 
if not, he is obliged, as a member, to obey. The 
rights of conquest leave the community without a 
choice : obedience is entirely compulsive, and the 
ideas of obligation resolve themselves into those of 
self-preservation. In usurped governments, which 
are generally the most tyrannical, obedience is ge- 
nerally the most servile. Terror suggests the idea 
of oblig;ation to the multitude, while sordid indi- 
viduals sacrifice every worthy principle, in order to 
obtain the favour of the sovereign. 

The intellectual and moral endowments of the su- 
preme head — the wisdom, equity, benignity, display- 
ed by his administration — his parental concern for 
the welfare of the community, introduce a new set of 
principles, such as reverence, admiration, love, gra- 
titude. These are affections which produce, in the 

happy 



OBLIGATION. 



369 



happy subjects, the homage of the heart ; inspire 
nobler niotives for obedience than those suggested 
by personal interests. They create attachments ; 
render obedience pleasant. They not only subdue 
reluctance, but they place every act of duty in the 
light of a tribute of love and gratitude, due to a be- 
nefactor. 

There is another source of power of a peculiar 
kind, with which peculiar obligations are connected; 
this is, parental authority. 

The Parent feels himself bound, by parental af- 
fection, in union with , all the principles of justice 
and humanity, to support and protect his offspring, 
and promote their welfare, to the utmost of his 
ability. The Offspring enjoy their existence the in- 
stant they enter into life. Every individual around 
them is eager to assist them. Their own helpless- 
ness is their protection, by the universal compassion 
it excites. They experience a succession of good, 
from the hour of their birth. As soon as they are 
capable of observation and reflection, they perceive 
the unwearied care and attention, with which all 
their wants are anticipated, and their desires gra- 
tified. Every day, and every moment, wimess an 
accumulation of benefits ; of enjoyments, without 
their own exertion ; gratifications, which no wealth 
could purchase, and which cost them neither care 
nor trouble, Here^ then, self-interest^ justice, gra- 

2 B titude^ 



370 



on MORAL 



titude, unite in demanding the returns of love and 
obedience. 

Where obHgations like these are violated, on 
either side, the ofifenders lose their title to kuma?i 
beings. They are, by universal suffrage, pronounced 
to be ihe out casts of society : and they cany with them 
the stigma of umiaturaldindi inhuman monsters. 

These are the ideas of obligation formed in civil 
societies. Tliey have three distinct characters. 
In some instances the sense of obligation is imme- 
diately connected with future expectations ; in 
others, the x^ffections of the heart are conspicuous, 
inspired by the discovery of pre-eminent worth; 
in others, the obligations of Gratitude for benefits 
already received, are acknowledged to be indispen- 
sable. 

In these civil relations, although they are not 
expressly founded upon a moral law, yet the ideas 
of virtue and morality occasionally present them- 
selves. For the principles of justice and gratitude, 
will be united with personal expectations of benefit. 
It is universally deemed equitable, that every one 
should contribute his share towards the good of the 
community, from v/hich he expects many advantages. 
The observance oi justice is requisite among thieves, 
or their compacts would be dissolved. Ingratitude 
is considered as an ir justice of the most ignomini- 
ous 



OBLIGATION". 371 

Oils kind ; more indicative of a worthless character, 
than the violation of an}^ positive law, however equi- 
table in itself. 

When we apply ourselves to the contemplation 
of moral obligation, we proceed much further. In 
our code of Morals, the practice of every virtue is 
enjoined upon us as an incumbent duty. Nothing 
is optional. No evasions can be practised. They 
are enjoined by an authority which no one can dis^ 
pwte, no one resist. In civil relations we observe a 
social compact; and individuals seem to be at liberty 
to return to a natural freedom and independence, 
if they will forgo the advantages for which they 
have consented tb barter them away. But moral 
duties are connate ^vith our existence ; nor could 
they be evaded in any other waiy, than by the pos- 
sibility of self-annihilation. In civil relations we 
solely observe those rnores (manners), social habits, 
institutions which constitute good citizens and sub- 
jects, in the opinions of the legislators and .philo- 
sophers of antiquity. The mores^ from which the 
moderns have derived the term moralitij, were to- 
tally distinct from every idea of religion^ in the 
estimation of the multitude ; but with us, mural ob- 
ligation has assumed a religious character. The 
fear of the Gods, among the ancients, chiefly ma- 
nifested itself by services, solemnities, and sacri- 

f2 B 2 fices, 



37B ON MORAL 

ikes, in which virtue and morality had seldom 
any concern ; and by which they were too frequent- 
ly violated, in the grossest manner. The ideas they 
had formed of obligation towards the Gods, chiefly 
consisted in compliance with the superstitious ce- 
remonies, which were deemed necessary to avert 
their wrath, or secure their protection. 

To the Jezvish and Christian r^eligioiis, are we in- 
debted for consistent ideas of virtue and morality. 
They alone have introduced a moral law, which 
renders the practice of virtue obligatory upon all 
men ; and have given to our social duties a cast of 
character, unknown to the Pagan world. 

In all civil societies, four things are essential : 
the object, which invariably relates to some appa- 
rent good\ the manner of obtaining t Ids good, which 
is specified and detailed in the rules and regula/- 
tions of the society ; the rewards ?ind,penalties, by 
which obedience is best secured ; and the executive 
power, which remunerates the good, and has a 
w atchful eye over delinquents. 

Under the moral government of God, the same 
distinctions exist ; the requisites ai^e similar, but 
upon an infinitely more extensive and more im- 
portant scale. The object is the diffusion of the 
most extensive good ; the practice of universal vir- 
tue constitutes the means by which this good is to 
be obtained ; and certain considerations, or induce- 
ments, 



OBLTGATIOlSr. 373 

merits, most congenial with the nature of man, are 
held forth to individual agents, that they may con- 
tribute all in their power to the common fund of 
well-being. Moral laws belong to man, as man. 
They are not confined to particular communities ; 
but they extend to the whole human race ; and 
every rational being, without exception, is interested 
in their effects. 

It is alone by the practice of virlue, or, in other 
words, by an uniform obedience to the moral law, 
that man can secure the greatest happiness to himself, 
or contiibute to the welfare of all sentient beings. 
This alone provides a constant and universal check 
and counterpoise, to the natural preponderancy of 
self : it directs desires after personal happiness 
into their proper channels ; it restrains every rapa- 
cious or avaricious passion and propensity ; every 
impetuous sally of a revengeful temper, to which 
inordinate self-love is perpetually prone. It fosters 
and calls into action every just, generous, and hu- 
mane principle, according to our various connec- 
tions and relations in life. 

Such are, in some measure, the objects of human 
laws, when dictated by wisdom. But their effects 
are necessarily limited and partial. The natural 
influence of the divine laws is to diffuse universal 
henejit. They also extend to the minutest ramifi- 
cations of a virtuous character ; and they enjoin 

upon 



374 



ON MOitAL 



upon us the cultivation of dispositions and affec- 
tions, over which human laws can have no authority. 
The divine laws render a man responsible to his 
Maker for the secret desires and thoughts of his 
heart, which are the sources of all his unrestrained 
actions ; but over w^hich human mandates can have 
no control. They render the practice of every per- 
sonal virtue, w hich is naturally an act of mere pru- 
dence, an incumhent dntij^ a rdigious service, consti- 
tuting that Holiness, without which, all other services 
are idle superstition, or detestable hypocrisy. 

The remunerations and penalties attendant upon 
obedience and disobedience of the divine laws, are 
also peculiar in their nature and importance. The 

benefits arising; from the best constituted govern- 
ed o ■ 

ments, are necessarily limited, and may be extremely 
partial. It is not possible for the wisest of human 
laws, equitably administered, to ensure happiness to 
every individual member. They cannot provide 
against all the miseries of life; and numerous are 
the cases of distress, to which they can administer 
no consolation. Obedience to the laws of Heaven, 
not only secures the subject from all the evils aris- 
ing from mental depravities, but affords inward con- 
solation, under the heaviest pressures of affliction. 
The universal and complete obedience of all the 
subjects of the Supreme Governor would ensure 
universal happiness, even upon earth; and although, 

in 



OBLIGATION. 



in this imperfect state, the virtuous may suffer from 
the injustice and oppressions of the wicked, they 
are still enabled, by their principles, to possess their 
souls in patience, and enjoy a serenity of mind, to 
which their triumphant persecutors are entirely 
strangers. 

Which leads us to another important distinction. 
Although obedience to the moral law is the most 
certain method of ensuring happiness to the subject, 
in the present sublunary state, yet this is, as it were, 
but an incidental circumstance. The primary ob- 
ject of obedience is to prepare for another state. 
The grand remunerations are permanent existence, 
a future life, eternal life, an eternal life of happi- 
ness. Such is the promise of Christianity. The 
penalties of disobedience, denounced also in the 
same Revelation, are peculiarly awful ; not to be 
equalled by the severest punishments ordained in 
human governments. They affect with peculiar awe, 
by being threatened in indefinite language, and their 
specific nature being utterly unknown. What is 
implied in " the wrath of God revealed against all 
ungodliness," no one can tell. This is certain, should 
it finally prove salutary and corrective, we are as- 
sured, by indubitable authority, that it will be se- 
vere. It will still be a fearful thing,'' as the author 
of the Epistle to the Hebrews expresses it, to fail 
into the hands of the living God." 
■ ■ • ■■ - We 



376 



ON MOKAL 



We have, remarked, that obligations are always 
deemed to be the more bindinor, according to the 
degrees of excellency in the laws themselves, and of 
intellectual and moral worth observai)le in the cha- 
racter of the supreme Governor. Under tyrants, 
terror, self-defence, and the grossest selt-interest, 
alone suggest the ideas of obligation. In milder 
governments, temporal and local advantages are 
expected, in compensation for yielding up some por- 
tions of natural liberty. In otiiers, we admire the 
wisdom and the equity of the laws, and feel our- 
selves bound by a sense of honour, as well as of 
equity, to obey them : we should be considered as 
unworthy subjects, to transgress those laws of which 
our reason approves. In some governments, we be- 
come personally attached, as it were, to the supreme 
head, by the admiration of his excellent qualities; 
the affections of the heart are gained by the benig- 
nity with which the laws are administered, and the 
wisdom with which this benignity is exercised. But 
there are peculiarities in our connexion with the 
Universal Sovereign, v. hich cannot be equalled or 
imitated. 

.The laws of our great Legislator are perfect. 
They have one uniform object incessantly in view, 
and are calculated to effect that object, without any 
intermixture of jarring principles, or of contrariety 
of interests; in the obedience of the subject. The 

benefits 



OBLIGATION. 377 

benefits of the moral laws are not confined to cer- 
tain districts, or to a circumscribed nuniber of in- 
dividuals, perhaps to the injury oi others. Thus do 
prudence, reason, and a public spirit, unite to aug- 
ment the obligation to obedience. The Universal, 
King is, without dispute, the lawful sovereign of all, \ 
and rebellion admits noi ot excuse or palliative. 

Again : the Divine • Legislator is not, like all 
earthly potentates, a being politically instituted, to 
maintain a strict observance of the laws ; who has 
no other relation to his subjects, than that derived 
from his exalted office ; and who himselt enjoys nu- 
merous advantages and emoluments from his sta- 
tion. The Universal Lord is the Creator of his sub- 
jects. He has placed them in their respective sta- 
tions; endowed them with capacities to. discern their 
duties, their obligations, and their privileges ; and 
he has purchased a right to command obedience^ 
by an unwearied attention to their interests, without 
the expectancy of any personal advantages. 

Gnce 'more. The Sovereign whom all mortals 
are bound to obey, has condescended to assume the 
parental character; considers man as his intellectual 
and moral offspring ; and expresses a concern for 
their weltare, which is but feebly imitated by the 
most atiectionate of parents. This naturally and 
3iecessarily introduces an obligation to filial respect, 
lovej and obedience. By habitual disobedience the 

filial 



378 



ON MORAL 



filial character is debased, and all its incalculable 
advantages are forfeited. Nothing milder can 
possibly be expected from a resistance to parental 
guthority, so benignantly exercised, than, that an 
union so honourable and so interesting, should be 
dissolved for ever; or that a just severity of chas- 
tisement shall be inflicted on the disobedient, until 
they shall be reclaimed from their perverseness. 

These statements, which cannot be controverted, 
fully evince that our obligation to obey the law of 
morals, is more binding than any compact between 
man and man, or any other obligation which unites 
beings together. They will also indicate, 

IV. What are the proper motives to obedience 
to the moral law; or, in other words, to the uniform 
practice of virtue ? 

The natural distinction between motive and ob- 
ligation is easily traced. Obligation is something 
of an absolute indispensable nature. To violate an 
obligation, is to violate some principle which ought 
to be respected. A motive is simply an induce- 
ment, which has finally determined the will to exe- 
cute a particular purpose, or to act in a particular 
manner. It may operate, not only where there is 
no obligation, but contrary to every obligation that 
is admitted to be binding, upon a rational creature 
and a moral agent. Obligations are circumscribed; 
they relate to particular lines of conduct. ]\lotives 

are 



OBLIGATIOIvr. 379 

are of universal agency ; they pervade eveiy depart- 
ment of human conduct; are as operative in the 
disobedient as in the obedient ; their influence is as 
great in vicious, as in virtuous actions. 

When we contemplate motives, as connected with 
virtue and morality, they will appear in two points 
of view : either as arising; from a*o:eneral sense of 
obligation, inducing us uniformly to practise virtue, 
or to make the laws of morality the invariable rules 
of conduct ; or as occasional and specific induce- 
ments, to perform particular acts of a moral cha- 
racter. 

If we inquire what are the general motives to 
practise virtue, the foregoing analysis will present 
lis with some immediately connected with the ideas 
of obligation. We cannot discern an obligation, 
without discovering in it some principle which ought 
to operate as a motive to perform it ; either as in- 
terested beings, or from the law of compact, and 
from a principle of equity ; or as the highly favoured 
subjects of an upright and beneficent chief. 

The motives operative in particular acts are many 
mid various. They may arise from the impulse of 
the moment, or from a passion or affection immedi^ 
ately excited ; such as fear, hope, joy, sorrow, com- 
placency, indignation, a sense of honour, a generous 
propensity, compassion, personal attachment, &c. 

These 



530 



ON MOKAL 



These may, in their turns, stimulate to action, ac- 
cording to the nature of the objects which present 
themselves, or the peculiar manner in which they 
strike the mind at the instant. 

The frequent repetition of virtuous actions will 
also introduce virtuous habits ; and facilities united 
with the complacency which accompanies virtue, 
may finally form the taste ; render that pleasant and 
delightful which once had been reluctantly perform- 
ed as a duty. The mind may thus acquire a love 
of virtue and. a detestation of vice, and add a new 
impetus to eveiy immediate motive. 

Not to repeat too large a portion of what has 
been formerly advanced under this head, we shall 
content ourselves with enumerating the following 
particulars. It was observed that " the admitted 
inducements, or legitimate motives to action, possess 
the following characters : they are such as are most 
consistent with the best interests of the agent ; — 
such as are becoming a rational being ; — are adapt- 
ed to the social nature of man ; — are most interest- 
ing to a cultivated mind ; and such as are enjoined 
by a superior, who has a claim to obedience*." In 
the Disquisition referred to, we endeavoured to ap- 
preciate the respective merits, and comparative de- 
grees of influence, of each. 

* See Ethical Treatise, Fart II. Disq. II. 

. ' " By 



OBTJGATION". 



3B1 



By a survey of these authorized principles of ac- 
tiorij it will most conspicuously appear, that the 
Deity has conferred distinguished honours on re- 
ligion and virtue, by the choicest selection of in- 
ducements to obey their precepts. To these in- 
ducements reason gives the highest sanction; by 
these, self-interest is best promoted ; the bonds of 
society are strengthened,- and social intercourse ren- 
dered delightful ; the character of man is elevated 
and ennobled ; and implicit obedience is at a re- 
mote distance from servility of conduct ; for just 
sentiments respecting a great first cause, and our 
relation to him as our creator, benefactor, and pa- 
rent, contain the most exalted and influential of all 
motives. They inspire a permanent reverence, eii- 
coiirage the brightest hopes, and they call forth the 
most pleasing and operative affection of love, adaii- 
ration, and gratitude. 

From a review of the various motives which are 
admitted to influence the human mind, it appears to 
us that they may be reduced to three principles of ac- 
tion ; Self-interest didy regulated ; Love towards the 
object whom we would benefit, or whom we ought to 
obey ; and Gratitude for favours received. 

Self-love is the earliest principle, and universai 
in its influence. This is always operative, in a 
greater or less degree, in every sentient being, from 

the 



38^ 



ON MORAt 



the dawn of his existence to the termination of his 
days. Love towards other objects cannot be coeval 
with existence, or the feelings of self-love ; for it first 
demands that we should be acquainted with the ob- 
jects ; perceive, or imagine that we perceive, some- 
thing good and amiable in them, and be able to ap- 
preciate their merits ; these revquire time, experi- 
ence, and observation. Gratitude is still later in 
its birth. It is generated by personal favours re- 
ceived, in a mind suitably disposed to appreciate 
them. 

Self-love may operate, not only to the exclusion, 
but to the injury, of another. The social affection 
adopts others into our hearts ; and in proportion 
to the strength of our attachments, will the affec- 
tion approximate to self-love, and influence our 
conduct. Gratitude draws us out of ourselves, as 
it were ; gives a superiority to the benefactor ; and, 
with the ardour of affection, it unites a deep sense 
of obligation ; so that a cold return would be deem- 
ed an injustice ; and an open offence, be placed 
among the basest of crimes. 

Self-love is not, in its own nature, either a good 
or an evil, virtuous or a vicious principle. It is 
solely a propensity to possess whatever we suppose 
to be good for us, or gratifying to our nature. It is 
operative where virtue and vice have no concern. 
Its irregular operations are obvious in vice ; while 

its 



OBLTaATIO^^. 



383 



its temperate, well regulated influence^ is obvious in 
all the personal virtues. 

Benevolence is always a virtuous principle. Its 
operations always secure to others their natural 
rights ; and it liberally superadds more than they 
are entitled to claim. 

Gratitude is always a virtue : and it is a virtue 
which ennobles both the object and the subject. The 
object, by the acknowledgement of his benevolence ; 
and the subject, by manifesting the amiableness of 
a grateful heart, through the medium of its self- 
abasement. It is a token of humility, highly ho- 
nourable to the recipient of a benefit ; and a deli- 
cate act of justice, highly honourable to the bene- 
factor. 

V. Why is the practice of virtue rendered obli- 
gatory upon mankind ? 

The ample view we have taken of ethical sub- 
jects will present us with a satisfactory answer to 
this question. 

The grand principle of ever^^ desire, every motive, 
every action, relates to real or supposed good ; to 
the state of Well-being of sentient and intelligent 
creatures, rendered capable of various enjoyments ; 
to " Happiness, our being's end and aim." As no one 
can be happy without the means of happiness, these 
are destined' to be the objects of our incessant pur- 
suit. To exist, to enjoy existence, to render it a 

blessing 



384 



ox MOllAL 



blessing to ourselves or others, is the parent of everv 
wish, is contained in every motive, is a stimulant 
to every action. We cannot imagine a plan to be 
formed, or an exertion to be made, where the loie 
of good is not the operative spring. Its influence 
is obvious in the most vicious, as well as in the most 
virtuous dispositions ; in the most frivolous, as well 
as the most important actions. Diligence, indo- 
lence, rest, labour, all refer to some apparent good. 

But it is alone by the incessant operation of moral 
principles, that the production, diffusion, security, 
and permanent enjoyment of the greatest quantum 
of good can be obtained. Vice is in its very na- 
ture contracted, malignant, and baneful. All the 
gratifications of vice are partial, selfish, turbid, 
tonsient. They are purchased by the loss of much 
greater good to the agent, and inevitably productive 
of evil somewhere. Were vice predominant, were 
man always selfish, unjust, cruel, revengeful, the 
bonds of society vrould be dissolved. On the con- 
ti'ary, were the self-interest of every individual pro- 
perly moderated; were justice in its minutest rami- 
fications always sacred and inviolate ; were laws in- 
stituted according to the principles of wisdom and 
equity, executed with a benignant fidelity, and obey- 
ed without a murmur, or an evasion ; were com- 
passion always prompt to remove or alleviate indi- 
vidual distress ; were the fullest scope given to every 

generous 



OBLIGATION". 385 

generous exertion of the intellectual powers, in the 
discoveries and improvements adapted to our na-* 
ture and our wants this world would have but 
few evils to lament; and it would be enjoyed as a 
preparative anticipation of future bliss, in " a king- 
dom wherein dwelleth righteousness." 

Since, therefore, there is a principle universally 
operative ; since the infinite importance of virtue 
and morality, in producing the desired end, Happi- 
ness, is universally acknowledged, why should phi- 
losophy dwell upon abstractions, which can have no 
influence upon, the desires and affections ; and con- 
sequently cannot stimulate to the performance of 
one good action, or suggest an efficient inducement 
to restrain from that which is bad ? If acting ra-- 
tionally be considered as a duty, merely because it 
is rational ; and acting irrationallij as a crime, merely 
because it opposes reason, — what is there to give spi- 
rit and momentum to obligation ? Why should \Te 
be endowed with rational faculties, whose very uti- 
lity consists in finding out whatever may be subser- 
vient to the interests of sentient .beings, if the whole 
of virtue consists in the exercise of them ? Or, why 
should a conformity to the dictates of reason be ex- 
pected, or enjoined, if no Good be expected to en- 
sue? What is it to any one, whether twice two be four 
or fourteen, or twice four eight or eighty, if he is to 

2 C commence 



386 



ON MORAL 



commence and terminate by ascertaining and ac- 
knowledmncrafact? When the arithmetician searches 
for truthj in the studied accuracy of his accounts, is 
it not that he may ascertain the extent and value 
of Propeiity ? There must be some kind or de- 
gree of int eldest in every motive to action, some be- 
nefit to be received, conferred, or acknowledged. 
Without this, there could be no moving cause. Abs- 
tract principles are motionless. Their only object 
is to point put to us such states, relations, and pro- 
perties, as may be injiuential: Reason searches after 
truths : and reason itself discovers to us that no 
truths are valuable^ or will repay our researches, 
which are not useful. They will be totally indiffe- 
rent to mankind in general, until some specific pro- 
perties are discovered ; and then they may attract 
attention, as possessing injlitence. Philosophers 
themselves would not pursue their abstractions, were 
they not gratifying to some principle within them. 
Thus do they expect a remuneration by that which, 
they assert, ought to be pursued for its own sake. 
If one truth be preferable to another ; if the nature 
and fitness of some things be more interesting to 
the mind than of others, there must be some cause 
of this • a something which creates the superiority,, 
in addition to the abstract idea of truth, or of adap- 
tation. 

Again. W^ere we to tell a man who is governed 

by 



OBLIGATION. 587 

by his vicious propensities, that he is acting con- 
trary to the nature and fitness of things, he might 
answer, I imagine not ; for I observe that my ap- 
petites, which you deem so vicious, are in confor- 
mity to certain objects of a gratifying nature ; and 
that there is a certain adaptation of these objects to 
my appetites. But you are contradicting reason. 
What then ? If no bad consequences will ensue, 
reason cannot punish me for the insult; and I feel 
no punishment in the perception that I contradict 
what is of no use to me. But you are acting wrong; 
you are opposing that which is essentially, abso- 
lutely, immutably flight. He will inquire,Upon what 
do you found your distinctions between right and 
wrong ? No satisfactory answer can be given, which 
does not point to benefit on the one side, or injury 
on the other. To assert that things are so because 
they are so, and we can go no further, may termi- 
nate the debate ; but it contains no argument satis- 
factory to a thinking mind, nor does it bring forward 
the feeblest motive to reclaim a vicious one. Even 
the will of a superior cannot be urged, totally un- 
connected with some inducement which interests 
the mind ; such as the expectation of advantage or 
disadvantage, the love of his character, or a sense 
of benefits already received, which call forth the 
warm and grateful affections of the heart. We 
are not under obligations to obey every one who 
2 c 3 is 



388 ON MORAL 

is superior to us, either in power or in wisdom r 
and he who has a ri^ht to our obedience, has ob- 
tained that right by some compact, or by his hav- 
ing laid us under obligations, by benefits conferred 
and accepted. Shall we venture to deduct from 
the words prudence, imprudence, justice, injustice, 
benevolence, cruelty, all their beneficial or injuri- 
ous effects, and then consign them over to the phi- 
losophic idea of the nature and fitness of tilings, in 
order to render one class the rule of action, and to 
check the aberrations of the other? All the en- 
comiums which are passed upon virtue ; the appro- 
bation felt and expressed in the terms respectable^ 
amiable, excellent, dignified, generous; all the igno- 
minious epithets poured forth against vice ; and the 
indignation felt at the discovery of that which we 
denominate to be ungenerous, base, ungrateful, vil- 
lanous, — have a direct reference to those grand ob- 
jects. Good or Evil ; and not to abstractions. They 
cannot be applied to actions and dispositions which 
are indifferent in themselves. But if they neither 
produce good nor harm, they are indifferent in them- 
selves. These encomiums and epithets most cer- 
tainly relate to good intended or performed, to evil 
designed or perpetrated ; and they have gradations 
in their significations, according to the degrees of 
good or evil discovered ; according to comparative 
excellencies or comparative marks of degeneracy. 

It 



OBIIGATIOlsr. 



3S9 



It is by this principle alone that we regulate our 
opinions of actions, which abstraction must prohibit 
as irrational, essentially, immutably wrong ; and we 
disregard, without the least remorse, our violation 
of the nature and fitness of things, where it is harm- 
less, beneficial, or amusing. The abstract idea of 
justice is violated by taking a single grain of wheat 
from a farmer's barn, or picking up a pin in the 
streets, without inquiring for its lawful owner ; for 
we are thus depriving some one of his exclusive 
right ; and such conduct would be equally atrocious 
with stealing the whole contents of the barn, or pur- 
loining a whole manufactory of pins, if we pay no 
attention to the injury committed or intended. The 
strictest veneration for truth does not proscribe 
fables, allegories, or irony, which are literal viola- 
tions of it. But the object being to amuse, instruct, 
or to satirize some foible or imperfection, these very 
falsehoods are admitted as being productive of some 
degree of good, and are often respected as the 
means and instruments of virtue. 

The same pdn^qiple which permits this apparent 
deviation from the laws of rectitude, raises a power- 
ful barrier against the abuse of it. As soon as the 
possibility of an injury presents itself^ the practice 
is no longer permitted as lawful. Should it appear 
that a single grain gf conij or a single pin, possessed 

some 



390 ON MORAL 

some peculiarities which rendered it of value to the 
proprietor ; were the one, for example, a peculiar 
kind of grain, destined for an agricultural experi- 
ment; were the pin the tirst of its l^ind, and destined 
for a model, — the act, which was before innocent, 
would now become nefarious, in the eyes of every 
man. 

In the cases stated above, no injury was eithei^ 
intended or committed, or could possibly ensue. 
Hence it is that morals admit of a latitude which 
abstractions must condemn. But no law of morals 
will allow us to commit evil in order to produce a 
more extensive good, • The law to us is absolute. 
Had we a discretionary power, it would be inces- 
santly abused. We are not permitted to deprive a 
rich man of his wealth, which he may use impro- 
perly, or even to pernicious purposes, although it 
were to clothe the naked, or to feed the hungry. 
For were the principle admitted, it would render 
private property insecure ; it would expose the pos^ 
sessions of others to the arbitrary conduct, and erro^ 
neous opinions, of every individual that has power. 

Hence it is that assassination is justly held in ab- 
horrence by every civilized state. However deserv- 
ing of death the object finay have been ; although 
he may have committed many murders, and been 
guilty of pppressions beyond calculation, yet the 

tempo^ 



OBLIGATION. 



391 



temporary disadvantages and miseries attendant 
upon his conduct, are infinitely less than those which 
would result from adopting the practice. This would 
place the dagger in the hand of every miscreant, 
whom envy, hatred, avarice, or ambition, should ex- 
cite to murder h-is neighbour ; and the security of 
the most Worthy, would lie prostrate at the feet of 
the most Abandoned.' 

Thus it appears, from an ample discussion of the 
subject, that some species of good, to be enjoyed or 
imparted, is the grand spring, the principle, whence 
every desire, inclination, motive, and the consequent 
act originate. This is the source whence they flow, 
the centre to which they tend, and around which 
they harmonize. The discovery of this good is the 
object of all our intellectual faculties, and renders 
the exercise of them delightful. To pursue the 
greatest good, is most worthy of our reasoning 
powers ; to sacrifice this for pernicious gratifica- 
tions, is most unworthy of them. It is here that 
the mighty difference betvveen rationality and irra- 
tionality consists. The enjoyment of this good is 
the basis of self-interest ; to diffuse it is the soul of 
benevolence ; every thing is fit and right, that pro- 
motes it to the greatest extent ; every thing is wrong, 
which impedes or destroys it. The intrinsic value 
of prudence, discretion, justice, kindness, and hu- 
manity, 



392 



ON MORAL 



manity, proceeds from their benignant influence 
upon happiness ; the deformity of vice consists in 
its fiend-like malignity. It is the expectation of 
Good, which creates submission to human laws ; 
and it is Good, which assembles every motive , of 
self-interest, and every sentiment of love and gra- 
titude around the throne of the Great Source of 
Good!! 

The above observations will equally discover to 
us the grand pj^'mciple in the divine Mind, which , 
renders the practice of virtue universally obligatory, 
upon rational and intelligent agents. 

In every code of laws, the object or design of 
their institution manifests itself ; even where they 
should be inimical to the general good. We can 
always distinguish, whether they be calculated for 
public or private benefit ; whether they be mild or 
severe, liberal or oppressive. From the nature and 
tendency of the laws themselves, we discern the 
excellencies or defects of the constitutional govern- 
inent. In proportion as the injunctions, authori- 
tatively enforced, indicate a tendency to promote 
the general vrelfare, and diffuse essential blessings 
over a community, we entertain favourable senti- 
ments of the wisdom and benignity of the legis- 
lative government. Let us apply these principles 

to 



OBLIGATION". 393 

to the law of morals, and we shall clearly discern 
both the character of the Universal Governor, who 
is the creator of his own subjects, formed their 
specific natures, gave them specific endowments, 
and placed them in their specific relations, and also 
the object of his laws. 

It is manifest that the principles of virtue are 
the only principles by which the greatest good can 
be obtained. That virtue is the road to well-being 
pointed out by the finger of God, every Theist will 
allow, who has paid attention to the nature and ten- 
dency of virtue ; and every Christian will admit, 
that it is rendered obligatory, in order to prepare 
us for a more exalted state of happiness, than can 
possibly be enjoyed in the present imperfect, tumul- 
tuous, and transitory state of things. 

These facts incontestably prove the divine benig- 
nity towards the human race ; and they authorize 
us to conclude that benemlence towards his crea- 
tures is the grand sprifig of action. 

This inference corresponds with the most exalted 
ideas we can possibly form of a Being perfectly good. 
Benevolence is the principle which constitutes super- 
lative excellence of character. We have proved, 
upon another occasion, that all the other attributes of 
the Deity are subservient to his Goodness. Power 
is an attribute merely physical. Knowledge may 
be inert. Wisdom is alone valuable, as it enables 

to 



394 ON MORAL 

to form and execute plans of utility. Goodness is 
the attribute which renders every other attribute 
interesting. It both directs and restrains power ; 
it renders knowledge efficacious of good ; it inspires 
complacency in all the plans of wisdom. The be- 
nevolent principle is, in its very nature and charac- 
ter, incessantly operative for good, according to the 
utmost extent of capacity in the agent. The exer- 
cise of power may be incidental, partial.- and even 
injurious. Knowledge is not in its own nature ope- 
rative. It may be considered solely as the maga- 
zine of means and expedients. Wisdom can only 
be proportionate, in its exertions, to the extent of 
knowledge, and of means ; but the dispositions of 
a benevolent mind can neither be limited nor sus- 
pended. They will always exist as dispositions, 
however limited the opportunities may be for its 
exertions. They naturally and necessarily expand 
in every direction, and are always prompt to effect 
all possible good. Their exertions can only be re- 
strained by incapacitif. Numerous may be the im- 
pediments to actual usefulness, but nothing can de- 
stroy, in a benevolent mind, the desire of commu- 
nicating happiness. 

It is further to be observed, that no other prin- 
ciple can be, to the possessor, such an inexhaustible 
source of happiness, and of self-complacency, as 
benevolence. Ijt enjoys the design, the exertion, and 

the 



OBLIGATION. 395 

the accomplishment. It "dwells in love," which, 
of all the afFections, is alone pleasing in its nature 
and exertion. It loves its object, it delights in its 
plans ; it is pleased with its means ; it triumphs in 
its success. The being who a'muses himself in the 
exertions of his power alone, confines his happiness 
to his own vanity, and is a perfect stranger to every 
ather enjoyment. To be gratified by the possession of 
knowledge, is no other than a vain delight in a stock 
of useless furniture; nor can the mind enjoy pleasing 
reflections from any other source ; and all the grati- 
fication that results from the conscious possession of 
wisdom, must consist in the perception of its utility. 

Again, no other character can be so honourable 
as a benevolent character. For, although, it is re- 
plete with enjoyment, that alone is disinterested. 
Disinterestedness, enstamps superlative excellence 
upon benevolence alone. This constitutes an ex- 
cellence, to which the most unlimited exertions of 
power, and the most enlarged knowledge are per- 
fect strangers ; and to which that w^isdom which 
commences and terminates in self, can have no pre- 
tensions. Benevolence alone is the object of love. 
Fear is the sensation which immediately belongs to 
power. We may admire^ and be amazed at the extent 
of Knowledge. We "venerate Wisdom ; but Good- 
ness we love. And when we contemplate this good- 
ness, 



396 ON MORAL 

ness, in union with the other attributes, the assem- 
blage inspires the united affections of awe, "ccnera- 
tion, admiration, and gi^atitude. Such affections 
and sensations are the most exalted testimonies of 
homage, which can befelt, or expressed, by one being 
towards another. 

Can we admit these positions to be facts, without 
feeling a surprise that philosophy has been assidu- 
ously searching for other principles of action in the 
Divine mind? some prior existent principle to which 
goodness is subordinate, and v. hich makes it wise 
and proper for the Deity to be good, and to do good? 
some abstraction which we must suppose him to con- 
sult before he ventures to act, in order to bless his 
creatures ? such as the nature and fitness of things; 
the eternal relation of things, or the reasonableness 
of goodness ; or eternal rectitude, eternal rule of 
right ? These are statements which obviously trans- 
fer superiority to other principles of action ; and 
have a tendency to render them, in our conceptions, 
more excellent than the transcendent excellency of 
benevolence itself. 

These principles have already been considered 
in relation to human actions ; and we have attempt- 
ed to prove that they are unsatisfactory, when pro- 
posed as the basis of our conduct. 

As 



OBLIGATION. 397 

As these various phrases, adopted by moral phi- 
losophers, indicate that they are not -satisfied with 
each otliers statement, a suspicion arises that we 
ought not to be satisfied with either : and by mi- 
nutely attendino; to the crenuine si^fications of 
these favourite terms, we shall find that our suspi- 
cions are not improperly indulged. For the exami- 
nation will evince, that, they all terminate in some- 
th'mg beyond themselves ; they all ultimately refer 
to Good ; which is the grand principle for which 
we contend. Let us now examine them in this con- 
nexion. 

When we speak of the nature and fitness of things, 
we can have no clear conceptions, but of means 
adapted to some end ; and this end must be known 
before we cai\ judge of fitness or adaptation. What- 
ever is fit, must be fit for something ; something 
<must therefore have a priority either in actual or 
proposed existence; and this must be known, before 
we can predicate concerning the accordancy of 
other things to its nature. It must also promise 
some species of Good, without which no accor- 
dancies can be worthy of our attention. 

We may also ask, "What are we to understand by 
the assertion, that goodness is founded in reason? 
"What, in this connexion, is intended by reason ? 
Does God reason himself into a benevolent dispo- 
sition? 



59 B 01^ Moral 

sition? Gr is he first intellectual, and afterwards 
benevolent? Or, can the term reason, with any 
propriety, be applied to the Deity ? to that Beings 
who sees and knows all things lOTtJlTlVELY, ac- 
cording to the strictest sense of the term ? Man 
is endowed with reasoning powers, to enable him 
to search out some good, either by the discovery 
of truths, or of the line of conduct which is wisest 
and best; and these reasoning powers assure himj 
that truths themselves would not deserve his re- 
searches, if they were not conducive to some good 
purpose. Thus the conception of something good, 
valuable, of real worth, of comparative worth, must 
be prior to the exercise of our reasoning powers. 
Our object is to. know what is good, what is bettei^, 
what is best ; and unless we employ our reason for 
purposes of 'this kind, we possess our reasoning fa- 
culties in vain. This is the law of our nature, — :and 
is the law of the divine u'ditme directly opposite? 
Does the Deity reason first, and afterwards search 
for objects to which his reasons can be applicable ? 
Does he determine, after due consideration, to per- 
form benevolent acts, because it is reasonable that 
they should be performed ? Is not the Goodness 
of God, as essential to his nature, as Intelligence? 
Shall we suppose that he is good solely because he 
is intelligent, rather than conceive that this essen- 
tial 



OBLIGATION". 399 

tial benevolence renders his intelligence operative 
in the adaptation of means to the ends, the impor- 
tant ends of Happiness ? 

Again. When it is asserted that the grand prin- 
ciple of action in the Deity is to be found in the 
eternal relation of things^ what are we to under- 
stand by the assertion? The eo'istence of things, 
either in reality, or in -purpose, must be prior, in 
our conceptions, to any relation subsisting between 
them. If the things themselves be not eternal, their 
relations cannot be eternal ; and if we ascribe this 
eternity to the divine purposes, we cannot suppose 
that the abstract perception of this future relation 
was prior, in the divine mind, to that grand object of 
creation, the diffusion of happiness^ as the primi- 
tive incitement to the w^ork of creation. Surely the 
Great God is not inferior to a common geometri- 
cian ! What mortal ever erected a building, merely 
to observe geometrical proportions ? Does he not, 
on the contrary, always make geometrical propor- 
tions subservient to the designs of the building? 
No one studies astronomy solely in contemplation 
of the mathematical principles, upon which the hea- 
venly bodies are so wonderfully constructed aqd ar- 
ranged ; but to ascertain and admire the universal 
order and harmony derived from those laws. If we 
suppose that the relation of things was perceived 
and pre-ordained from all eternity, we must suppose 

also, 



400 



ON MOBAL 



also, that this arrangement is of infinite hnportancei 
and that the intelligence which perceived this im- 
portance could not be prior to the goodness, which 
prompted to the execution of plans productive of 
good* It is the grand principle of goodness alone, 
which renders the intellectual nature of Deity of any 
importance to his creatures, or to himself. 

It is confessed by these philosophers, that HAP- 
PINESS is the end, and the only end, conceivable by 
us of the Divine Providence and governinent ; al- 
though it is added, that he pursues this end in sub- 
ordination to rectitude ; for it is the happiness of the 
virtuous and good pr^erable to that of others^. ^ 

We will first inquire, What are we to understand 
by rectitude ? Is it not a relative principle ? Does 
it not relate to just and right conduct, towards some 
existing beings ? Rectitude refers to a law of right ; 
and this law refers to some object, who may be be- 
nefited by it, or injured by the violation of it. If we 
are to understand by the expression, it is not right 
that all the creatures of God should enjoy equal 
happiness, and we were to demand the reason, the 
answer must be, because all are not equally deserv- 
ing of it, or equally prepared for it : that some have 
disobeyed the laws of rectitude, which others have 
conscientiously observed. But why is it necessary 
or desirable that any should observe these laws } Is 

* See Price and Balguy on Morals. 

H 



OBLIGATIOl^r. 40 1 

it not because rectitude secures to others that to 
which they have a just claim ; or it acts towards 
thein with that kindness and benevolence which the 
agent desires and expects, from the conduct of others 
towards himself? Does not this again conduct us 
to the possession of Good ? 

But further. What can be intended, in this con- 
nexion, by suhordlnatioH ? Happiness itself cannot 
be sabordinate to any means. It is a deSnite state 
of enjoyment. It is the acme, the ultimatum of every 
desire, and every pursuit, and can be subordinate 
to nothing. The conditions of happiness, and the 
capacity of enjoying it, must be subordinate to many 
rules, or regulations; otherwise the greatest possi- 
ble good could not be obtained or communicated. 
This is tacitly acknowledged in the subsequent 
phrase: " For it is the virtuous and good alone who 
are rendered capable of enjoying a happiness which 
deserves the name." It is accordincf to the rule of 
rectitude, that such should be as happy . as they de- 
serve. This statemeni is perfectly intelligible ; but 
it again points to an object periectly distinct from 
the above abstract idea of rectitude. For if it be 
the very object of rectitude to promote or secure 
happiness, it is incongruous to suppose that the 
latter is in subordination to the former. In no case 
whatever has the grand end been considered as sub- 
servient to the means which promote it. 

^T> It 



402 



ON MORAL 



It has been said, that " if we would inquire why 
it is right to conform to the relation of things, we 
shall find ourselves obliged to terminate our views 
in a simple immediate perception, or in something 
ultimately approved^ and for which no satisfactory 
reason can be assigned." Might we not assert, that 
if the advocates for the nature and fitness of things 
are obliged to terminate their inquiries in this man- 
ner, they are but ill rewarded for their assiduous 
investigations ? We are certainly able to proceed 
a step further ; and it is surprising that the term 
approved did not immediately point to it; for we 
can approve of nothing, which is not productive of 
some good. Let us admit, that this relation of 
things has an intimate connexion with the happiness 
of created beings, and has a tendency to produce it, 
and we shall perceive their fitness to be of infinite 
importance. By considering Happiness as the end, 
we arrive at an ultimatum perfectly satisfactory. 
Here will every being, susceptible of happiness, rest 
in full contentment. He will have no inclination 
to proceed a step further. 

Should the above train of reasoning appear unex- 
ceptionable and convincing to any of my readers, they 
will be induced to inquire how it was possible that 
intelligent philosophers should not have adopted a 

prin- 



OBLIGATION. 403 

principle so very obvious, as well as so honourable 
to the Great Source of all Good ? When we acknow- 
ledge the existence of a being infinitely good, no con- 
clusion can be more natural, than that the diffusion of 
all possible happiness must be the final cause of 
his creation and government; notwithstanding, the 
means by which this end will be accomplished, may 
be attended with a larger mixture of temporary evil, 
than, according to our imperfect and limited views 
of things, could have been expected. 

May we not suspect that their speculations have 
taken such a particular diiection, in consequence of 
some theological tenets so universally prevalent, 
and which had given an imperceptible bias to their 
minds ? Those philosophers who believe in the eter- 
nal misery of the larger portion of mankind, or even 
contract their hopes .to a final annihilation, must be 
extremely embarrassed to reconcile their opinions, 
with that mlinitude of goodness in a being who pos- 
sesses infinite power and infinite wisdom. This may 
possibly have induced them to seek for some i^econcil- 
ing medium ; and to devise a principle of action so in- 
fluential upon the Deity himself, as to render the 
final happiness of all created beings impracticable! 
Hence they have recourse to eternal reason, eternal 
rectitude, the nature of things, the Jitness of things, 
and to a goodness founded on reason. They are 
obliged, however, by the principles themselves, which 
2 D 2 they 



404 O^' MORAf. 

they have advanced, to vemmn in abstract ions ; or 
to propose these abstract prmciples, as the basis of 
the Divine conduct, without venturing to apply theai 
to any specific act. For it appears most evident to 
us, that the bold and faithful application of them 
to some of their theological opinions, must have 
terminated in the confutation of them. The whole 
artillery of these principles would be turned against 
such opinions. It would be extremely diificult to 
prove, that the everlasting misery of any of the 
creatures of God, is not contrary to the nature 
and fitness of things ; or that any reason can pos- 
sibly exist to prevent infinite goodness, from being 
as unlimited in its operations, as it must be in its 
desires. Whoever has just practical conceptions 
of the nature of rectitude, will never discover how 
it can be consistent with the eternal rectitude of 
God, to compel creatures into a temporary resi- 
dence on earth, endow them wiih very limi'ted 
powers,, surround ti]em wlih numberless tempta- 
tions, to foreknow that they v/ould accumulate to 
themselves eternal wrath and miser}^, and 3^et de- 
termine to curse them with an eternal existence I 
Nor is it conceivable that the Being, to whom the 
nature and fitness of things is perfectly known, 
should not be able to discover such adaptations in 
them, as might administer relief to all the con- 
demned criminals of his own creation ; while he 

has 



OBLIGATiOISr; 405 

kas discovered a method of salvation for a select 
few, in no way more deserving ! Is it consonant 
with the nature of things, that eternal rectitude 
should be thus partial ? or that infinite wisdom., 
power unrestrained, and goodness inexhaustible;^ 
should be so miserably circumscribed in their opera- 
tions ? 

Let us only admit, that inlinite benevolence is 
the grand UTOving cause, and we shall clearly per- 
ceive iii]j)oriaat objects in the Divine o;ovcrnment, 
Mith which all these principles will perfectly har- 
monize. We shall acknowleds;e it to be consistent 
.with the nature and fitness of things, that the uni- 
versal parent should love his offspring, and consult 
.their best interests, in the whole of his conduct to- 
wards them. Nor shall we deny the fitness and 
propriety of those sufferings, and temporary chas- 
tisements, which may prepare them for a future 
^tate, or conduce to their final happiness. Con- 
fiding in the immutable rectitude of God, we shall 
rest assured that all the children of his family shall 
be treated with the strictest impartiality : that he 
will not sternly demand of his imperfect creatures, 
more than they are able to perform, or punish them 
beyond their deserts. The eternal relation of things 
will point out the intimate connexion between vice 
and misery, virtue and happiness ; and inspire mo- 
jal agents with the most encouraging confidence, 

that, 



406 



ON MORAL 



that, with a perfection of moral character, will be 
for ever connected the perfection of happiness. In 
a word, it must certainly appear most consonant 
with the nature and fitness of things, that infinite 
wisdom and power should be incessantly exerting 
themselves, to render every part of the Divine ad- 
ministration subservient to the purposes of infinite 
goodness 

Some divines sneak as if the Supreme Beino; ^vere 
solely influenced by a personal motive, in the cre- 
ation and government of the universe. They main- 
tain, that he has made all things /or his own glory. 
This position, unexplained, does not convey to us 
the most honourable ideas of the grand principle of 
action in the Divine mind. It insinuates an un- 
worthy selfishness of character ; as if he gave exist- 
ence to myriads of beimrs, merely that he might be 
admired by them. The same divines assert also, 
that God would have been eternally happy in the 
contemplation of his own perfections, had no created 
being existed. Are not these two positions at va- 
riance? The first assertion ijnplies a design that 
other beings should behold his glory, and that this 
would be a source of self-gratification ; the second, 
that he is completely independent of them in his 
felicity. Nor can any one concei\e from what 
sources the Deity can enjoy supreme happiness,with- 

* See Note T., 

out 



OBLIGATIOlSr. 



407 



out the exercise of his relative attributes. If we 
suppose power, wisdom, and goodness, to be eter- 
nally inert, which supposition is inchided in the as- 
sertion, the Divine enjoyment must be centred in 
conscious existence, and in the particular mode of 
his existence ; that he is uncaused, spiritual, and in- 
habits universal space, in which no being exists but 
himself, and where there is no one to bless ! 

Let us relinquish for ever sucli crude notions, 
and venture to conteujplate infinite goodness as in- 
cessantly operative in the diffusion of happiness, 
by means dictated by unerring wisdom, and by a 
power which will surmount every obstacle. We 
shall immediately perceive an eternal source of 
complacency in the Divine mind ; and an eternal 
theme for glory, honour, and praise, from all the 
intelligent creatures of God. His glory will consist 
in communicating happiness to all, in proportion to 
their preparation for it; and in rendering the bliss 
which he imparts the source of his own felicity. A 
glory infinitely superior, in its nature as well as in 
its effects, to that of displaying irresistible power, 
or of suffering the abstract principle of stern per- 
sonal right to triumph over commiseration ! 

This view of the subject shows that it is no bar- 
ren speculation ; that it does not terminate in abs- 
tractions, which of themselves are entirely useless. 
Such sentiments, and such alone, can dispose and 

enable 



408 ON MORAL 

enable us to obey the great command "Thou 
sbalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, 
^^ith ail thy soul, and with all thy strength." 
Eor we can only love that character, with a per- 
fect heart, in v. hich we contemplate incessant di- 
splays of beneficence, compassion, and mercy. 
The injunction is founded on the important truth, 
that " God is love that love is as essential to his 
nature, as selt-existence, and no more requires that 
he should reason himself into the disposition, than 
his existence requires that it should be the work of 
a creation. 

These sentiments will also dispose and enable us 
to obey the other command, which is like unto it, 
"Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." The 
love of God naturally attunes the heart to the be- 
nevolent aifections and em.olions. We cannot me- 
ditate upon Goodness, without a disposition to imi- 
tate. If example has such influence, that it disposes 
frivolous minds to mimic the very foibles and im- 
perfections of their superiors ; if it has induced Pa- 
gans to imitate the vices thev ascribed to their Gods: 
if it has induced ill-taught Christians to be the im- 
passioned agents of a revengeful Deity, will it not 
dispose the well informed to love their brethren of 
mankind, whom their God loves, ^ and who are 
equally tiie objects of the Divine care as them- 
selves ? 

We 



OBLIGATrON. 409 

We are prone to resent the various evils of life, 
to which an heated imagination and inordinate 
self-love give a terrific appearance. These evils 
are either physical or moral. Under the first, the 
sentiments we are attempting to establish afford 
the truest consolation. A conviction that love is 
the actuating principle, in a being of infinite wis- 
dom and power irresistible, will inspire a conviction 
that all things must work together for final and 
permanent good. As human intellects are some of 
the instruments employed by "the Supreme Agent, 
physical evils will diminish, and natural blessings 
be enjoyed, in proportion as these are cultivated 
and improved. There is no moral evil which bro- 
therly love will not subdue. Look over the black 
catalogue drawn up by the apostle of the Gentiles % 
and say which could exist, if every one loved his 
neighbour as himself? The Deity will not continu- 
ally work miracles to make mankind happy, in op- 
position to their atten^pts to diffuse misery. He 
has appointed the human race to be his agents, his 
instruments, fellow-workers with him. When we 
work as we ought, the end will be effectually ac- 
complished ; and not before. So that to love our 
neighbours as ourselves is not simply obedience to 
a command, it immediateli/ promotes the plan of 
God, the plan for which he constituted us moral 

* Rom. i. 

agents ; 



410 



ON MORAL OBLIGATIO:??. 



agents; for which he rendered the practice of every 
virtue an incumbent duty. 

The apostle James declares, " If a man say I 
love God, and hateth his brotlicr, he is a liar.'' 
St. Paul remarks, " He that loveth another hath 
fulfilled the law. Love worketh no ill to his neigh- 
bour : therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law." 
He pronounces the most popular and splendid acts 
to be mere noise and vanity, if they proceed not 
from a princi|)le " which sufferelh long and is kind^ 
which envieth not, sceketh not his own ; is not 
easily provoked, thinketh no evil," &c. Love, of all 
the affections, is the most gratifying to the agent, 
the most minute in its attentions, the most benefi- 
cial in its exercise. This happy tcinper is both 
cherished and ennobled by a conviction that bene- 
volence is the grand spring of action in the Divine 
mind ; a conviction which unites glory to God in 
the highest y with peace on earthy and goixiwill in 
all men, and towards all men. 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 



Note A. 

After which ahvays possess intrinsic importance." Page'29. 

It is well known, that the theories which have no other foun- 
dation than mere conjecture, or a slight analogy, are very sel- 
dom, if ever, confirmed by a more extensive knowledge of 
facts. I might instance in the theory of the celebrated Boer- 
haave, who attempted to explain the laws of physiology, pa- 
thology, and therapeutics, upon mechanical principles; the 
theories formed to explain muscular motion, by alternate mix- 
tures of acids and alkalies ; the conjectures concerning the 
uses of the veins and arteries, before the circulation of the 
blood was discovered, &c. &c. 

That very intelligent philosopher and close reasoner, how- 
ever, Dr. Hartley, has engaged in the bold attempt to explain 
all the laws of sensation,, recollection, association of ideas, 
and the leading functions of sentient and intelligent beings, 
upon principles purely physical ; by which he has rather en- 
feebled than strengthened the doctrine of association; the 
laws of which, as matters of fact, he has treated with so much 
precision, and philosophical acumen. 

Every principle advanced may become the parent of other 
principles. Inferences may be drawn from it to a great ex- 
tent, and may disseminate important truths, or pernicious er- 
rors. If the principle itself be fallacious, the consequences 

deduced 



41^ 



NOTES. 



deduced from it will be fallacious ; but while they are re- 
ceived as indubitable axioms, they may exert a pernicious in- 
fluence. Nor would it be difficult to show, that most scep- 
tical notions owe their origin to the admission of false prin- 
.ciples, advanced by men most remote from a sceptical dispo- 
tiition. It is therefore preferable to remain in a total igno- 
rance, which prevents from acting or speculating, than to ha- 
;zard speculation upon uncertain principles. 

The theory of Dr. Hartley is ingenious and elaborate ; but 
r.unierous and powerful are tlie objections to its admission. 
It is contained in the following propo^sitions : 

" External objects impressed upon the senses occasion, 
:first, on the nerves on -which they are impressed and then on 
the brain, -sibrations of the small, and, as one may say, infini- 
tesimal, m.eduilary particles." " These vibrations are excited, 
propagated, and kept up, partly by the aether ; i. e. by a vciy 
subtile and elastic fluid, and partly by the uniformity, conti- 
nuity, softness, and active powers of the medullary substance 
of the brain, spinal marrow, and nerves *." 

It would be foreign from my purpose to enter largely into 
,this subject ; nor will it be necessary, as the warmest admirers 
of his doctrine of associations, do not feel themselves obliged 
to believe in the theory by which the Doctor attempts to ex- 
plain it. I will, however, make a few cursory remarks, in 
order to corroborate tlie sentiments advanced in the text, to 
which this note has a reference ; induced by the firm opinion, 
that all attenipts to explain the phapnomena observable in sen- 
tient and intelligent beings, upon physical principles, are not 
only unsatisfactorj', but dangerous 

Vv'e sh3.]\,JirsSy observe, that the theory is entirely conjecturaL 
No conjectures, of any kind, are worthy of the least attention, 
vvhich are not formed upon prolabililies ; and even in that 
case, no other use ought to be made of them, than to direct 

^ Se^ " Obbci viitions an Man," Vol. I. Prop. IV. V. 

further 



NOTES. 



413 



further inquiries into those facts, or induce us to make those 
experiments, which shall confirm the conjecture into a reality. 
This alone is a firm foundation : to build upon the most spe- 
cious conjecture, is to build upon a morass, or a quicksand. 
But the theory before us is the more exceptionable, as it is 
€?bliged to propose several conjectures as first principles. We 
are required to admit the existence of certain vibrations ; their 
being excited by external objects ; the existence of a subtile 
elastic fluid, termed aether ; its adaptations to keep up these 
vibrations, in conjunction with a similar adaptation in the me- 
dullary substance of the brain and spinal marrow, to co-operate 
with this clastic fluid ; which again compels us to suppose that 
two bodies, essentially different in their nature, should bo en- 
dowed with the same properties. 

Secondly, There is no apparent connexion between sensa- 
tion, thought, or any kind of mental perception and operation 
of intellect, with any physical principles whatever ; either me>- 
chanic, chemical, or hydraulic. We may likewise observe, 
that, although these are in the region of physics, they are in 
their operations very distinct from each other, and the action 
of each principle is circumscribed by its own peculiar laws* 
Strong, therefore, is the presumption, that all the operations 
of mind.) which is in its nature so remote from these, should 
also be governed by its ov/n peculiar laws. 

Thirdly, It is difHcult to conceive how a mere vibratory 
motion, in a single nerve, should become the conveyancer of 
sensation to any part of the brain, and, through its medium, of 
thought to the mind : it is still more difficult to conceive, that 
vibratory motion should be so varied in the i?ifinilesimal me- 
dullary particles, as to give distinct impressions, correspondent 
to the m.ultitudinous sensations and ideas of which human be- 
ings are susceptible. The difficulty increases when we attempt 
to ascribe reminiscence to the same mechanic cause. The re- 
touch must renew precisely the same vibratory motion in the 

nerves 



414 



KOTES. 



nerves or medullary substance belonging to the part, where 
the primitive sensation or idea was deposited. Thus every 
distinct thought, or sensation, must have its own exclusive 
povv^er of giving a distinct vibration ; and the recollective 
powers must be able to excite precisely the same movements, 
and yet maintain the distinction between the primitive and 
the secondary impression ! 

Again, Our embarrassment is augmented, when we attempt 
to conceive of the manner in which the idea conveyed by one 
sense, which has its own specific nerves and laws of action, 
should be recalled by the operation of nerves belonging to 
anotlier sense, whose conformation is different, and conse- 
quentl}^ requires another class of vibratory motions of a na- 
ture totally diiferent. Wlien we receive information by the 
eye, as in reading, how shall we conceive that the same train 
of ideas shall be recollected by our hearing them repeated ; 
as the nerves and medullary substance belonging to the organs 
of hearing are solely in exercise? By what law can they put 
into movement a distinct apparatus, that shall convey pre- 
cisely the same ideas f Those who have a competent knowledge 
of different languages, are able to translate instantly the 
thoughts conveyed to their minds by one medium, through 
the channel of another : from the Latin, Greek, or Hebrew, 
for example, into English. These languages must, according 
to the mechanic theory, have each its distinct characteristic 
vibrations, for every word it contains ; and the mind must be 
empowered to excite vibrations in the communicating nerves 
of a nature totally different, in order to convey to the reader 
or hearer ideas perfectly analagous ! 

Once more. A different tone of voice; the manner of 
making a pause ; an accent laid upon a particular word, are 
able to excite a new train of ideas in the mind, totally different 
from the usual signification of the passage. This would be 
impossible, according to the mechanic laws proposed. They 

could 



NOTES. 



415 



could only effect a slower or a quicker, a feebler or a stronger 
vibratory motion ; and thus hasten or protract, strengthen or 
enfeeble, the correspondent impression. An ironical tone of 
voice, will immediately ascribe to a person, character, dispo- 
sition, and motives, directly opposite to the meaning of the 
words employed. By the tone will a question be distinguished 
from an assertion ; and consequently must have its peculiar 
vibratory movements, notwithstanding the words are pre- 
cisely the same.* The man who was called a foot-) by the jus- 
tice who questioned him, and who answered, I am not so 
great a fool, as your worship ; — takes me to be : excited 
laughter in every one present, excepting his worship, by 
suggesting an unexpected and satirical train of ideas. Mac- 
beth, in horror at the murder he had just committed, ex- 
claims. 

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
Clean from my hands ? No : this my hand will rather 
Thy multitudinous incarnadine, 
INIaking the green — one red !'" 

What a sublime idea is tlms conveyed, simply by the 
manner of utterance ! Thus in the Tragedy of Othello, when 
he enters the chamber oi^ Desdemona, he says — 

" Put out the light; and then, put out the light.''' 
Light in the first instance refers to his taper ; in the second, 
to the light of life, which never can be rekindled ; and yet 
the vibratory movements supposed to be peculiar to the v/ord 
light, must be the same. 

Finally, As this elaborate theory has not the least tendency 
to elucidate the manner in which mind is enabled to read 
the various impressions, or comprehend the various vibrations, 
we remain as ignorant as before, concerning what it is most 
interesting to know. Nor is the benefit derived from the 
theory, sufficient to remunerate those who might be disposed 
to adopt it. 



416 



NOTES. 



Note B. 

After the appropriate definition" Page 55. 
The term self-evident^ which is now so generally admitted, 
without hesitation and without excuse, as being itself an axiom, 
is manifestly an encroachment upon that kind of courtesy 
which permits v/ords to pass current that are not perfectly 
accurate, if they be sufficiently expressive of a popular mean- 
ing. Self-evident is an emphatic substitute for, immediately 
perceivable, or what may be received without deliberation ; 
correspondent with the familiar phrase, that speaks for itself , 
which cannot admit of a literal interpretation. But a quick- 
ness of perception is also necessary in the percipient. Hence 
it is that a proposition shall appear self-evident to one man, 
v/hich another may not rightly comprehend. An experienced 
coachman will think it self-evident, that a man ought to hold 
the reins in his left hand and the v/hip in his right, when 
driving his carriage, and will laugh at the awkwardness of a 
novice. A veteran soldier calls the young recruit a block- 
head, for not shouldering his musket at once on the left side, 
cr confounding the left foot with the right, when he attempts 
to march at the word of command ; and when the recruit 
arrives at the honour of becoming a drilling serjeant, he uses 
the same language; forgetting the season of his own igno- 
rance. Surely it must be acknowledged, upon a little reflec- 
tion, that nothing proposed to the understanding, can, philo- 
sophically speaking, be self-evident. Objects of sense alone 
can make the right impression at the moment. Nothing abs- 
tracted from sense can be perceived with equal swiftness and 
accuracy. Objects of ^enze dLve y owe masters ; they command 
attention. You cannot help seeing an object before you, if 
your eyes be open, or hearing a noise in the street ; but what- 
ever is proposed to the viind courts attention ; and if it be 

novel 



417 



novel, it requires a degree of consideration. But the axioms 
mentioned by our pliilosoplier have not the most distant 
claim to se/f- evidence. They may be analysed into several di- 
stinct principles, each requiring thought and reflection. In 
the first proposition, a just idea of a whole must be formed ; 
then, the idea of a part ; thirdly, a comparison is to be made 
between them ; and finally, the mind must acquiesce in the re- 
sult. By taking away a portion from a whole, the eye see», 
and the mind immediately acknowledges, a difference. This 
is so obvious, that the axiom, a part is less than a whole, is in- 
stantly formed and becomes current, without the necessity of 
repeating any process to induce conviction. 

Thus, again, in the proposition, that a thing cannot exist, 
and not exist at the same time, the philosopher rushes upon 
the subject at once, very unphilosophically forgetting his 
former ignorance. He now says, it is self-evident. Did he, 
v,hen he was a child ? Certainly not. He was first taughl 
the difference between existence and non-existence ; and a 
certain process is necessary for this. He saw an object yes- 
terday, he does not see it today. Its being removed from 
his sight is no proof of its non-existence ; it may return to- 
morrow. He sees it no more. Two things are possible; ifc 
may be so secreted that he cannot find it, or it may be de- 
stroyed. If destroyed in his presence, he is an ocular witness 
of the fact ; otherwise he must have confidence in testimony. 
Take away his- drum and his trumpet, and you may simply 
suspend his amusement. Destroy their contexture, and his 
amusement is destro3^ed. He is now convinced, that neither 
of them is what it was, and he will comprehend the axiom, 
that whatever is destroyed cannot exist. 

Demonstration shows to the pupil, that there is a certain 
connexion or relation of part to part, in every problem, which 
constitutes the problem. This convinces him of a fact ; he 
sees that it is *o : it next proves, by a reasoning process, that 

2 E it 



41S 



It must be so, and camiot be otherwise. The process termi - 
nates in an inference that must be true, because the theorem 
stated ought not to have been stated in that manner, if the 
conclusion be not perfectly correspondent. Let us take, as 
an illustration, the proposition. The radii of the same circle 
are all equal. Show to the pupil the wheel of a carriage, 
and he will see that it is so. But before he can receive it as 
an indubitable axiom, you must prove to him that it cannot 
le otherwise. You must tell him, that a circle is a perfect 
round, and he will know by his hoop, v/hat you mean by the 
word round : then you are to convince him that every part of 
a perfect circle must be equally distarit from the central point. 
He may not understand, or he may not be convinced, until 
you tell him, or show him, that if it be not so, one part of the 
circle, or rim, will be more remote from the centre, or more 
proximate to it. But this is inconsistent with the definitioa 
of a perfect round, and could not be the problem stated. 
Here, again, attention to his hoop will soon convince him of 
the truth of the axiom. If it hobbles" in its motion, upon 
perfectly level ground, it cannot be a perfect circle. 

Thus, in the most comphcated problem, it is the province 
of demonstration, strictly speaking, to show that things are 
so ; and of reason, that they must be so. For a theorem cannot 
be the theorem proposed, unless the different members be- 
longing to it perfectly accord with the statement. 

Upon perusing a small treatise, written by the late inge- 
nious and accurate Dr. Beddoes, " On the Nature of demon- 
strative Evidence," &c. I was much gratified by observing a co- 
mcidence in our sentiments relative to the unauthorized and 
unnecessary manner, in vrhich some modern philosophers are 
augmenting first principles. His object is to show that, "in 
mathematical reasoning, we proceed at every step upon the 
evidence of the senses ; that the mathematical sciences are 
sciences of experiment and observation, founded solely upon 



NOTES, 



413 



the induction of particular facts ; as much so as mechanics, 
cistronomy, optics, or chemistry. In the hincL of evidence 
there is no difference, for it originates from perception in all 
these cases alike ; but mathematical experiments are more 
simple, and more perfectly within the grasp of our senses, and 
our perceptions of mathematics are clearer. So great is the 
simplicity of mathematical experiments, that, at whatever 
moment we are called upon to reason from them, we have the 
result of many of them distinctly in our memory. The ob- 
servations casually made in die course of life, leave sufficient 
conviction upon the mind ; and we are, before-hand, so fully 
satisfied, as seldom to take the trouble of repeating them. 
No motion or change admonishes us that we are engaged in 
an experimental inquiry ; and this is, I suppose, the reason 
why we are so little aware of the intellectual process we are 
going through." See Observ. on Math. Evid. p. 15. 

Note C. 

After convklioji, scepticism,'' Sec, Page 60. 

The difference in the meanings affixed to words, by different 
writers, is one of the greatest impediments to the discovery 
of moral truths, and the most difficult to surmount. Complex 
terms being frequently composed of many parts, and each part 
intermixing its own signification, they are frequently exposed 
t-o different constructions : and in controversial subjects, if 
two authors annex different ideas to the same term, they are 
taking different courses, and will soon steer out of sight of 
each other's argument. Dr. Reid has juet}3^ expatiated upon 
the necessity of accurate definitions, without His having always 
made them ; and his pupil. Dr. Beattie, has very seldom re- 
garded them. Even that great master of reason, Mr. Locke, 
who lias written in so satisfactory a manner on the errors oc- 
casioned by the abuse of words, has involved some of his ideas 
2.E2 iu 



420 



IvTOTES. 



in great obscurity, through the want of due attention to their 
precise import *. Perhaps no philosopher, ancient or modern, 
has taken greater liberties with language than Mr. Hume, of 
which we gave some instances upon a former occasion f , and 
many others will be given hereafter. 

We may suppose that the primitive signification of words, 
which are now received in various senses, was simple and de- 
terminate ; but being used metaphorically, or as equivocal in 
satire or the sallies of wit, or being perverted by human im- 
perfections, their significations have not only been greatly 
changed, but contaminated. Thus prejudice originally sig- 
nified prejudging, or a hasty determination without competent 
evidence : this being exercised more frequently to the injury, 
than to the advantage of another, uniformly assumes an un- 
favourable aspect, without the aid of an expletive ; whereas 
partial, on the contrary, denotes not only a particular bias, 
but a bias in favour of some one, or of some particular opi- 
nion. A censor was once a reformer of manners ; but the ha- 
bitual abuse of office has given a very unfavourable turn to the 
word cejisoriousness. The character of a wrangler was once re- 
spectable, or the title of senior wrangler vfe\x\d not be retained 
in our universities. 

Such changes, as they cannot be prevented, ought to b« 
carefully watched, or the deviations carefully traced. For 
unless the precise meaning of a word be known, an author 
cannot convey accurate ideas : he will not be intelligible, nor 
will he implant conviction. " 1 know," says Mr. Locke, " that 
there are not words enough in any language, to answer all the 
variety of ideas that enter into man's discourses and reasonings. 
But this hinders not that when any one uses any term he may 
have in his mind a determined idea, which he makes it the 

^- See Ethic. Treat. Vol. I. Note N. 

t See Phil. Treat. Notes F. I. N. See also Notes C. D. E. F. G. for di- 
veriities among philosophic writers. 

sign 



NOTES. 



421 



sign oF, and to which he should keep it steadily anne3jcd, 
during that present discourse. When he does not, or cannot 
do this, he in vain pretends to clear and distinct ideas : it is 
plain his are not so. Tlierefore, there can be expected no- 
thing but obscurity and confusion, when terms are made use 
of which have not such a precise determination." 

Note D. 

After that of wisdom, or of power.'' Page 62. 
It is certainly more decent to attack an attribute, a defi- 
ciency in which merely implies a physical, or an intellectual 
incapacity, than to suppose a defect which, in fact, is an zw- 
morality. For the being whose designs are equivocal in the 
article of goodness, cannot be respected as strictly moral. If 
the perfection of a human character be measured, not by the 
extent of power, or of wisdom, but by disposition to communi- 
cate goody surely this must constitute the transcendent excel- 
lency of the Divine Mind. In the midst of his imperfections, 
the desires of a truly good man to communicate happiness, 
are boundless. He will regret the limitations of his power, 
and deficiencies of his wisdom, chiefly as they are impedi- 
ments to the extension of his benevolent purposes. If such 
be the nature of Man, what must be the nature of that Being 
who created him ? 

Should it be asked, Whence is it that, in our systems of 
theology, sovereignty y terror, personal rights, anger, vindictive 
justice, have uniformly taken the lead ? may I not answer, 
that these proceed from a continuance, to a great degree, of 
that servile temper inherited from our barbarian ancestors, 
who, in their state of ferocious ignorance, v/ere best governed 
by terror, revered nothing so much as irresistible power, thought 
implacability an indispensable virtue, and left revenge as a le- 
gacy to their offspring ; M'ho uniformly ascribed these charac- 
ters to the deities whom they served : and after their con- 

versioii 



422 



KOTES. 



version into a belief of Christianit}^, coiiiinuLd to ascribe H si- 
milar character to the Fal/ier ofviercies! — See Note O, pager 
549, of Characteristic Excellencies of Christiiinity:. 

Note E, 

■ Afler supported ly his analogy.'' Page Si. 

The following fact will illustrate the position in the texts 
A young boy, born in Portugal, and a stranger to ice before 
lie went into Holland, upon seeing a large mirror laid upon 
the floor in a drawing-rroom, thought it was a large piece of 
ice, and got upon it in order to slide : fortunate'}" he was dis- 
covered before he made the attempt. Here was manifestly 
a mistaken argument from analogy. 

Nothing, perhaps, v/ould conduce so much to the know- 
ledge of the human mind, as a close attention to the actions 
and thoughts of very young children ; and yet no branch, in 
the history of human nature, is more neglected. The plea- 
sant and extravagant notions of the infantile mind amuse for 
the instant, and are immediately forgotten, whereas they merit 
to be registered with the utmost care; for it is here, and here 
alone, that Vv^e can discover the nature and character of Jir.st 
principles. An attention to the commencement and deve- 
lopment of their ideas would correct many of our speculative 
notions, and confute most of the sentiments of abstract philo- 
sophers, respecting what they so confidently advance concern- 
ing these first principles. For example. 

It is observable, that young children always coi:isider tli€ 
Deity as possessing an human form : it is late before they can 
conceive of a spiritual being. 

Most children, who have not been restrained by humane 
parents, have a propensity to beat animals and torment in- 
sects, without giving the least tokens of a cruel disposition. 
Their object is to display a kind of sovereignty over the brut« 

creation,^ 



]SrOTES. 



4Q3 



creation, or to amuse themselves with the flutterings of an 
insect, and not to inflict pain. To assert that these children 
had an innate propensity to acts of cruelty, would be an in- 
justice to them, and it would pay no exalted compliment to 
first principles. 

I knew the child of a dissenting minister of the stricter sect, 
who, amusing himself with his comrades by preaching and pray- 
ing, in imitation of his father, presented the following thanks- 
giving, doubtless in the sincerity of his heart : " O God ! we 
thank thee for all good things ; particularly, tliat thou hast 
made six days to play in, and only one to pray in." Shall we 
say that children have an instinctive abhorrence of praying to 
God, because indiscreet parents surfeit them with devotional 
exercises, which they cannot comprehend ? 

The memory of children is, in general^ quick and retentive* 
It is not necessary that they should understand, in order to 
remember, which is mostly the case with adults : they can re- 
tain a multitude of words and phrases without comprehending 
the sense annexed to them; — perhaps better than if their 
tendet' minds were occupied in both offices at the same time. 
This I believe to be the case with most young catechumens. 
I know one, at least, who repeated her Catechism with an air 
of devotion that entitled her to a chapter in the Toiienfor 
Children. She ansvyered every question that was asked her 
relative to the death and sufferings of Jesus Christ, with the 
vUraost solemnity, as well as promptitude and accuracy. But 
upon taking her out of the usual routine, and reading to her 
the history of our Saviour's death, as recorded by the Evan- 
gelists, she exclaimed with amazement and horror, Cruel 
creatures ! did they kill that good man ? I could not have 
thought there had been such wicked people in the world!" 

The early conceptions of children are often wild and extra- 
vagant to an excess, resembling the vagaries of a dream, or 
the phrpnsie^ of the insane. A little creature, not four year? 

of 



KOTES. 



of age, who had a voice in singing which charmed her pa- 
rents, was singing at a time that was inconvenient to her 
mother, who bade her to hold her tongue, or she would cut 
her head off." At night she says to her sister, My mother 
says she will cut my head off : I should not care if she did ; 
I should then have a pair of wings grow under my chin, and 
should fly up to heaven, and God would ask me to sing ; and 
I would sing, and God would say, ' Thank you. my dear, you 
sing very prettily.' " 

Such are the first principles of infant minds, which reason, 
and reason alone, rejects at maturer age. Philosophers are 
pot entitled to select those which best suit their purpose, 
erect them into premature axioms, and pass over, in profound 
silence, the numerous absurdities which preceded them. 

Note F. • 

After participation of his welfare." Page 93. 

Mr. Duncan, in his " Philosophy of Human Nature," as- 
serts, that " No emotion can be felt but on our own account. 
All feeling arises from what occasions agreeable or disagree- 
able sensations to ourselves. No affection can he disinterested. 
Even that sympathy which we have with a person, who will 
never know of it, with an inferior animal, or a fictitious ac- 
count of distress, 7«z/j^ arise from our own interest; forwe can 
no more be affected without interest, than we can feel without 
pleasure or pain. Such interest is excited by changing situ- 
ation in imagination with the sufferer : its degree then depends 
upon the perfection of the analogy between his circumstances 
and our own ; for we can conceive and feel no distress, unless 
we are conscious of the possibility of being subject to it our- 
selves." 

This paragraph consists of many members, which do not 
sufficiently elucidate or support- each other. It aims at being 

explicit. 



NOTES. 



42^ 



explicit, and yet it is very ambiguous. The general tenor of it 
is manifestly favourable to the doctrine we combat in the text. 
It seems to assert that self-interest is the basis, not only of all 
human actions, but of all human sensations. But neither of 
these propositions is proved to be true : they are arbitrary 
assertions, which we are free to deny, without any impeach- 
ment of our understandings. When he says, No emotion can 
be felt, but upon our own account, what is the specific mean-, 
ing ? Does he assert, we have an emotion in order that we 
ma}^ feel ? or are we to understand, that as emotions are al- 
ways excited by sensations, we cannot have emotions v/ithout 
having sensations also ? The first is an absurdity, and the 
Jatter is a truism which it was unnecessary to express. He 
says, also. We can no more be affected without interest, than 
we can feel without pleasure or pain. W^hat are we to under- 
stand by interest in this connexion? Is there any interested 
design in us to feel before we have felt ? or, are pleasure and 
pain interesting sensations ? If the first, some proof may be 
advanced to establish a proposition which appears so absurd; 
If the latter, it is a fact universally known, and no one has 
ever doubted. 

No affection can be disinterested.''' Certainly we must 
feet when affected; and these feelings will be pleasant or 
unpleasant, according to the particular state of our minds, or 
,the nature of the exciting cause. But this interest does not 
grow out of the mind ; it is no seJfislL suggestion : it describes 
a state in which the mind is passive, affected, or acted upon. 
It has not the most distant relation to interest as a principle 
which stimulates the mind to action. It is a state which will 
give rise to motives, but it is not to be confounded with them, 
I am made to feel pleasure or pain at the situation of another : 
this attracts my attention to him, and the peculiarities of his 
situation ; and that is doubtless the object or final cause of 
my sensatiottj and not interest^ in any sense of the word. 

I see 



4^6 



KOTES. 



I see him laugh ar cry ; the sight disposes me to laugh or cry 
4lso, before I know what it is which afFects him. But I do 
not laugh for the pleasure of laughing, much less will I crj 
for the pleasure of crying. These facts clearly point to sym- 
pathy, as a distinct principle from self.^ Thus, then, we dis- 
cover various principles, whose characters are very distinct ; 
and although they exist together, they are by no means syno- 
nymous If I be affected, I must feel ; this is a truism. I must 
feel pleasantly or unpleasantly ; this is a truth learned by ex- 
perience. These feelings may be excited by the state of an- 
other : here is a third principle, which I call sympathy. Mo- 
tives are now suggested to assist him : this is called philan- 
thropy, compassion, Szc. It is here that the motive com- 
mences. It is neither seated in the first sensation ; nor in 
pleasure or pain ; nor in sympathy, abstractedly considered. 
It must be in a particular species of sympathy, sympathy 
vith apparent distress : this suggests a motive for action. 
When I rejoice in the happiness of another, no motive is con- 
nected with my sympathetic congratulations, for the object 
requires no assistance : it is now a pleasant affection, arising 
from the union of his welfare and my good-will tovvards 
him. If any one will assert, tliat the affection is interesting, 
it will be admitted as expressive of something agreeable to 
our nature ; but to say it is interested, would be an incongru- 
ity, and almost unintelligible. 



Note G. 

After the pleasant ejects of the Jot/ itself.'' Page 95. 

The arguments advanced in the text against the doctrine, — 
that benevolence is founded on the principle of self-love, and 
tliat self-gratification is the secret motive for ostensible dis- 
interestedness, — ^presented themselves to my mind, in conse- 
quence 



J 



KOTES. 



427 



quence of the attention given to the nature and object of each 
passion or emotion ; and to me they appeared conclusive. 
Upon consulting subsequently Professor Hutcheson's System 
of Moral Philosophy, I was gratified in finding that he had 
made use of similar arguments. They are contained in the 
following passages : 

" The several selfish designs, terminating on particular ob- 
jects, are generally attended with some uneasy turbulent sen- 
sations in very different degrees : yet these sensations are dif- 
ferent from the act of the will to which they are conjoined ; 
and different, too, from the motives of desire. This motive is 
some good'" apprehended in an object or event, towards which 
good the desire tends; and, in consequence of desire, some 
uneasiness arises till the good is obtained. To aversion the 
motive is some evil apprehended or feared, and perhaps not 
yet felt. Uneasiness, too, attends the aversion until the evil 
is repelled. Prospects of the pleasures or powers attending 
opulence are the motives to the desire of wealth, and never 
the uneasy feelings attending the desire itself. These feelings 
are, in nature, subsequent to the desire." 

Again, When we obtain the thing desired; besides the. 
pleasure to be obtained from this object, which v/ere the mo- 
tives of the desire, and often before we enjoy them, there is 
one pleasure arising from the success, at least in those cases 
where there was any difficulty in the pursuit, or fear of dis- 
appointment. It would be absurd to say, that this joy in the 
success was the motive tothedesire. Thisholds in all our desires, 
benevolent or selfish ; that there is some motive, some end in- 
tended, distinct from the joy of success, or the removal of the 
pain of desire ; otherwise all desires would be the most fan- 
tastic things imaginable, equally ardent towards every trifle 
as towards the greatest good." 

Our compassion, too, towards the distressed, 'tis plain 
|;erminates upon their relief, even when we have no attention 

to 



4£8 



NOTES. 



to our own pain. Nor is the termination of any desire merely 
upon the removal " of the uneasiness which accompanies iu 
Thus though there may be in nature some connexion between 
us and the objects of our tender affections, yet the affection 
terminates on their good, is previous to this connexion, and is 
the cause of it. We therefore rejoice in the happiness of our 
child, our friend, our country, because we previously had an 
ultimate good-will to them. Nor do we therefore love them, 
or wish them well, because we have observed that we would 
derive joy from their happiness, and sorrow from their mi- 
sery. Hence it is, that the stronger our previous love and 
esteem was, the greater shall our joy be on account of their 
happiness, and our sorrow for their misery," &c. &c. See 
Book I. Chap. III. 

In the above extracts the reader will observe a similar train 
of ideas, though differently expressed. I am the more eager 
to pay this tribute to so excellent a writer, from my being 
under the necessity of differing from him relative to the exist- 
ence of a moral sense. It is much more satisfactory to be of 
the same sentiment with an author, that we esteem, than to 
differ from him. 

Note I. 

After " undesigned itiisery.'' Page 145. 
The reader may perhaps expect that I should make some 
observations upon what has been advanced by other writers, 
upon the intricate question before us, and point out some 
satisfactory peculiarities in my own conceplions, by way of 
apology for venturing upon a subject which has engaged the 
attention, and occupied the pens, of men highly celebrated 
for their intellectual powers. Such was my design ; but the 
writers of this class are so numerous, and many of them have 
written so largely, that I soon discovered this to be impracti- 
cable. 



4£9 



Gable. Therefore, to avoid partiality or prejudice, I ha\'e 
passed them over in silence, and have confined my attention 
to that view of the subject, which has the most conciliatory- 
aspect. I have only to remark, that most writers upon philo- 
sophical necessity, agree in rejecting every kind of compul- 
sion or physical impulse: they ultimately refer to the mo- 
tive or inducement which, influenced the will ; and they 
admit that kind of freedom to man which allows him to act 
according as he wills to act. But they maintain that the wiH 
itself is inevitably influenced by adventitious circumstances, 
over which it has no control. In the present Speculation I 
have attempted to collect the principal arguments advanced 
by each partisan, and to arrange them in a lucid order. 

The reader who may have perused the sentiments ad- 
vanced upon the subject of Volition in a former treatise, 
will perceive that the Speculation now before him is chiefly 
grounded upon them. Should those sentiments have contri- 
buted to throw light upon the subject, it will be a confir- 
mation of them ; and it would afford high satisfaction, should 
they furnish a conciliating medium, in which the opposite pai- 
tie> shall acquiesce. — See Ethic. Treat, vol. i, p. 218. 

Note K. 

After " the appearance of predilections and aversions.'' P. 150. 

The mind of every man is prone to have recourse to figura- 
tive language, when his ideas of a subject are partial or im- 
perfect. He catches with eagerness at the degrees of ana- 
logy which present themselves, and he may become so famili- 
arized to correspondent modes of expression, as finally to 
hnagine that they convey a more lucid and accurate view of 
the subject than facts will authorize. Thus, in the chemicaj 
science, tlie affinities which subsist between different bodies, 

and 



43d 



and the facility with which some will quit their connexion 
with one class of bodies, and adhere to others, with various 
degrees of force, having a strong resemblance to the predi^ 
lections of the human mind, have introduced the terms elec^ 
tiv€ attract'ons, as if these bodies possessed the power of dis- 
crimination and of choice, or comparative predilections and 
aversions ; by which phraseology, chemical combinations were 
made to approach too nearly to animal agency. But recent 
advancements in the science have removed the delusion, and 
enable us to form more accurate conceptions. The discovery 
of galvanic powers becomes explanatory of the phsenomenon. 
They manifest that these sudden and apparently whimsical 
changes are to be ascribed to the influence of the electric 
fluid, and the degrees of affinity which different substances 
have to that fluid, by means of which, various transmutations 
are made upon permanent principles, which had the appear- 
ance of predilections and aversions in the bodies themselves. 

Note L. 

'After " ill its progress." Page 160. 
The concatenation of cause and effect consists of links in- 
numerable ; and in the construction of these links we n;ay 
perceive an intermixture of different kinds of necessity. I 
determine, for example, to go to the East Indies. I was in- 
fluenced to make this determination, by the desire of wealth, 
by curiosity, or by the union of these. But I hesitated much 
before I fnially resolved. I was reluctant to leave my re- 
spected connexions in Europe ; the length and tediousness 
of the voyage, apprehensions of danger, uncertainty of suc- 
cess, made me irresolute. These various considerations cre- 
ated a vacillation in my mind, resembling the incidents which 
agitate the needle. All these circumstances, however, are 
not opposing, they are directing my will. Nor is it subjeoted 

to 



m)TES. 



tG any other mnsis^ than that the strongest inducement must 
prevail ; or that I must use the . means to accomplish the end. 
If I determine to go to the East Indies, I can no more de- 
termine to go to the Western Islands, than two and two can 
make five, or a perpendicular line can become oblique ; that 
is, than two manifest contradictions can harmonize. Ag^iin, 
I mui>t go in a vessel, for I cannot go by land ; this vessel 
7nust he adapted to the voj^age ; it must not be a cock-boat. 
It 7/iust have a skilful pilot ; the wind must not be directly 
contrary, &c. Sec. or the voyage cannot be performed. 

This important miist'^ therefore, resolves itself into these 
pd'inciples. The inducements v/hich prevailed over their op- 
posites, must Iiave been the strongest. I cannot make two con- 
trary determinations at the same time ; and the adapted 
means viust be pursued, in order to obtain the desired end. 
In none of these cases does the physical compulsion present 
itself. This could only exist by my being compelled to march 
lii:e a felon, and go on board the ship, in opposition to all 
the resistance I am iible to make. 

Note M. 

Aftei' Id-ea of compulsw:?, every time they are uttered, P. 1G6. 

It may perhaps be of some importance in the debate, to fix 
m our minds the precise difference between the terms could and 
would. When the Necessarian says that a man coidd not act 
dilxerently, in a given case, for all circumstances being ex- 
actly the same, his motives would be exactly the same ; and 
therefore he could not act in any other way ; the advocates for 
liberty \x\X\ say, iie would not act diirerently ; and as could and 
would are not synonymous, the question is, whose language is 
the most accurate ? Nov/, if we attend to that which consti- 
tufes the difference, the decision is apparently in favour of 
the Libertarian. The dixFerence obviously consists in the fol- 
lowing 



45S 



NOTES. 



lowing particulars. If I say I would not, the power is ac- 
knowledged to reside with myself ; if I say I could not, I seem 
to disclaim it. The term I would not, refers to the state of 
my mind, to my own resolutions ; the other, to what I cannot 
control. Why could I not? A thousand impediments may 
have prevented, over which I had no power. Why would I 
not ? Because I did not think that a particular mode of acting 
was consistent with my duty, my interest, &c. W^hy would T 
not oppose these ? Because I would not be disobedient, or 
oppose the ideas entertained, at the time, of my own well- 
being. To this mode of arguuig the Necessarian cannot ob- 
ject. There are two determinate senses, however, in which 
we may use the word could not, and in which the advocate 
for liberty must acquiesce ; and it is for these that we plead 
in the text. No man can make two opposite determinations 
at the same instant ; and both parties will join in the asser- 
tion that every man has an eye to well-being in every thing 
he does ; that when he can he will pursue the means ap- 
parently conducive to this end, for no man can will his own 
unhappiness. 

Note N. 

After " than ly repentance and reformation.'' Page 168. 

In subjects of controversy, we are so strongly attached to 
particular points, which are favourable or disfavourable to 
our opinions, that we direct the whole force of argument, 
either to the attack or the defence of these ; and we are apt 
to neglect other points, of equal importance, because they 
hav^e escaped being involved in the debate. Thus, in the ques- 
tion concerning the liberty or necessity of human actions, or 
the freedom of the human will, we instantly direct our chief 
attention to responsililities, to punishments of broken laws ; to 
what is termed vindictive justice, which is so eager to honour 
tke violated law, as to show no mercy to the miserable delin- 
quent. 



XOTES. 



433 



qiient. It is now treated as an abstract question ; detached 
as it were from the agent, it becomes an insulated subject of 
debate, and we revolt with horror against the idea of a punish- 
ment being inflicted, for a deed vrhich appears to be inevi- 
table. Such a law is pronounced to be unjust ; and the in- 
fliction of its penalties more criminal than any offence which 
the delinquent could have connnitted. But let us consider 
the punishments inflicted upon moral agents in ancJther 
point of view. Let us admit, what reason fully authorizes, 
and the Scriptures do not oppose, that all punishments, under 
the wise government of God, are corrective ; and the idea 
of injustice immediately vanishes, even upon the principles of 
the most rigid necessity. Every one will readily admit that 
there may be hindness, true benevolence, in the infliction of 
chastisements, which lead to reformation. This principle must 
be admitted to be strictly just. The offender will be con- 
scious that he is not suffering beyond his demerits ; and he 
perceives that change of conduct and dispositions will finally 
ensure his escape. ' Let us admit, for example, that a wicked 
action should constitute one link in the chain, and the punish- 
ment of this act should constitute another link, productive of 
those salutary effects, repentance, reformation, and exemplary 
conduct, which shall render him happy during the whole of 
his existence ; and this very punishment will immediately ap- 
pear the Irigktest link in the whole chain. 

Note O. 

After " triumphant over the antagonist.''' Page 177. 
Perhaps there is no instance upon record of such distin- 
guished honours being conferred upon any other author, as 
those enjoyed by the worthy Professor. We are informed by 
the editor of the last edition, that " this Essay on Truth, proved 
the foundation of his fame and foftune. In England it be- 
came popular beyond all expectation, and perhaps beyond all 
2 F precedent. 



434 



NOTES. 



precedent. In that country it procured him not only thq 
friendship of the most eminent characters of the day, either 
for talents or rank, but also the special favour of His Majesty, 
who was pleased to bestow a pension upon him, and admitted 
him to more than one private conference. The University 
of Oxford, and some foreign Universities, at the same time 
honoured him with degrees ; and he had the happiness to see 
his Essay pass through several editions with great rapidity, 
and to be translated into Dutch, French, and German." 

Mr. Northcote, in his Memoirs of Sir J. Reynolds, men- 
tions that a portrait of Dr. Beattie was painted by him in 1773, 
and, "after the manner of Rubens, he introduced an allegorical 
figure of Truth trampling on Infidelity and Scepticism, in the 
shapes of Voltaire and Hume." 

We can only form three conjectures upon the subject : 
either the clergy and laity, the learned and unlearned, in 
the more enlightened parts of Europe, were so dreadfully pa- 
nic-struck at the gigantic scepticiem of Mr. Hume, that they 
v/cre glad to haii any bold champion, who should dare to op- 
pose him ; — or they were so completely fascinated by Dr.Beat- 
tie's manner of writing, that they paid Ifttle attention to the 
nature andtendency of his principles; — or all the objections of 
his opponents are irrelevant and iVivolous. These alternativcia 
must be left to the decision of the present race of readers. 

Note P. 

After " notJiing leVieved without proof'- Page 190. 
Dn. Beattie professedly rejects the maxim of Des Cartes, 
to commence by doubting, alone, because it wovldesiailish the 
empire of reason If this were the only objection, it v/ould be 
a strong recommendation : but the maxim appears to me to 
be absurd; containing an inconsistency, a kind of felo de se 
within itself. For, if we are to commence by doubting, we 



NOTES. 



435 



ttre authorized to doubl the truth of this very principle. Nor 
could any argument be found to prove it, since the truth of 
every argument may also be doubted. Is it not much better 
to commence with what is so perfectly natural, and what will 
inevitably take place, a lelief in every thing that has been taught 
zisP No one can be instructed in universal error. In every 
situation he must be surrounded with numberless practical 
truths. Let him begin with these ; and although, for a time, 
he believes in a^l that has been taught him, if he be a man of 
thought and reflection, experience and observation, he will 
gradually rectify many of his errors : whereas an universal 
doubter has no place from whence to begin, or v/here to re- 
pose his arguments. The detection of some errors will natu- 
rally lead to an apprehension that others remain undetected. 
The rocks and quicksands upon which we are apt to split, and 
^hich must be avoided, are the assumption that we know much 
more than we really know ; too great a conjidence in the inJaU 
lihility of our first teachers ; reluctance to relinquish the tenets 
in which we have been educated; and the ridiculous fear of 
offending our God, by a conscientious use of the reason he has 
given us. 

Note R. 

After " act in subordination.'" Page 213. 
It was observed in our introduction to this Speculation, 
that the doctrine of a Common Sense has some resemblance 
to that of a Moral Sense ; which has, however, a superior claim 
to our attention, since it is proposed as an auxiliary to Reason, 
rather than as a rival or antagonist. We shall now add, that it 
has a close affmity to the doctrine of innate ideas, so preva- 
lent in the philosophic world, both ancient and modern, be- 
fore the days of Mr. Locke. This was also an hypothesis 
which attempted to dethrone reason, and recommend another 
2 F 2 principle. 



436 



KOTES. 



principle, of superior authority, in its place. Mr. Locke op* 
posed the doctrine with such irresistible force, that he entirely 
changed the current of the public opinion. He would have 
laboured, however, to little purpose, if Innate Ideas are to be 
dismissed in order to give place to Common Sense; for it was 
in some respects far preferable. It had the advantage of ad- 
mitting one simple principle within, to which an ultimate ap- 
peal is made. It did not shift its character perpetually, like 
Harlequin in a pantomime, under the arbitrary and heteroge- 
neous names of common sense, instinct, intuition, constitu- 
tion of nature, rational nature, moral sentiment. One uni- 
form standard was recommended, supposed to be resident in 
the breast of everj" nian ; whereas the modern doctrine, which 
appears to be no other than an emanation from it, after tra- 
velling through various phrases, resolves itself into the most 
opposite feelings of individuals. If they can hut feel strongly, 
the system gives them full liberty to argue weahly. 

It is in consequence of a close analogy between these two 
principles, that the arguments adduced by Mr. Locke, to dis- 
prove the existence of innate ideas, maybe applied with equal 
force against the doctrine of common sense. Each doctrine 
is merely an hypothetic assumption, in order to explain some 
phienomena in tlie human mind, and not founded upon any 
positive facts ; in each, the advocates are incapable of 
ytating with precision that class of principles which approve 
themselves to the mind, as indubitable truths, independent 
i)f reason. In each, those who depend upon such false 
guides, may be and have been guilty of the greatest enormi- 
ties ; and consequently they are totally useless, as rules of 
conduct ; and in each, the few appearances in favour of the 
hypothesis, may with much more propriety and safety be 
ascribed to those early impressions upon young minds, which 
are entirely disregarded by the abettors of those schemes. 
See Locke on Human Understanding, Book I. 

If 



KOTES. 



4"57 



If tlils statement be correct, it were natural to expect that 
Dr. Beattie should have commenced his labours by a full con- 
futation of Mr. Locke's arguments, instead of satisfying him- 
self with such a general unqualified declamation as the fol- 
lowing : " Philosophers have ascribed all religion to human 
policy. Nobody knows how soon they may ascribe all mo- 
rahty to the same origin ; and then the foundations of human 
society, as well as of human happiness, will be effectually un- 
dermined. To accomplish this end, Hobbes, Hume, Man- 
deville, and even Locke, have laboured ; and I am sorry to 
say, from my knowledge of mankind, that tlieir labours have 
not been altogether in vain." See Origin of Essay on Truth, 
page 9. 

Note S. 

After must have an adequate cause." Page ^93* 
Mr. Hume seems to have founded his theory upon the 
phraseology too incautiously, or too systematically, used by 
Locke and Hartley, in union with the doctrine of Bishop Berk- 
ley, respecting the non-existence of matter : and it must be 
acknowledged, that there are expressions in the writings of both 
the abovementioned philosophers, which seem to authorize 
some of those inferences which the sceptic has drawn from them, 
Mr. Locke has described the decay of memory in language 
highly figurative; and by a kind of poetic license, ill suited 
to philosophy, has ascribed indubitable effects to imaginary 
causes. Pie compares enfeebled memory to the inscriptions 
on brass or marble, which are effaced by time. " The pic- 
tures drawn in our minds," he says, " are laid in fading co- 
lours J" Szc. Again, " Whether the temper of the brain makes 
this difference, that in some it retains the character drawn on 
it like marble, in others like freestone, and in others little better 
than sand, I shall not inquire." Pie proceeds : " We oftimes 

find 



438 



find a disease quite strip the mind of all its ideas; and ihe 
jiames of a fever calcine all those images to dust and confusiop, 
which seemed to be as lasting as if engraved on marble." 
Book IL Ch, V, § V. 

This language, although it was obviously metaphorical, 
seems to have made so deep an impression upon the mind of 
Mr. Hume, that he dwelt upon it until it became a literal truth, 
sufficiently strong and permanent to support, in his belief, the 
whole of his system. He might also derive further encourogs- 
ment from Dr. Hartley's elaborate theory of vibrations, ac^ 
cording to which, sensations generate a disposition to diminu- 
tive vibrations, or vilratiunculce, which he considers as ininiiir 
iure or fainter images of the primitive sensations *. 

Both these philosophers, hov>^ever, acknowledged an ex- 
ternal existence, that of matter; and ascribed the phenomena 
which they attempt to explain, to various modifications of it; 
according to lav/s established by an intelligent agent* Dic 
Bishop also, when he rejected matter, and confined his systetr. 
to perceptions, ascribed these perceptions to an omnipotent 
cause ; to the constant and universal agency of the Deity 
himself. None of them dreamed of an absurdity similar to 
that advanced by Mr. Hume, of perpetual effects being pro- 
duced without any cause whatever. When the Indian phi- 
losophers placed the v/orld upon the back of an elephant, and 
this elephant upon a tortoise, they prudently attempted to 
convey a palpable absurdity, as far as possible out of sight. 
It was reserved for our philosopher to permit it to stare you 
in the face, without a blush. 

Note T. 

After " purposes of i7}fmite goodness.'" Page 406. 
Nor is the above an arbitrary supposition. No principle, 
x^hicli is not expressly revealed, can be considered as more 
* Spec. I. p. 26. Also Note A. 

probable. 



NOTES. 



439 



probable. I have proved, upon a former occasion, that no 
one dogma in controversial theology is built upon a slighter 
foundation than the doctrine of eternal misery; and also that 
the terms death, perdition, destruction, so frequently used in 
the Old Testament, could not be synonymous with absolute 
annihilation ; because, the wicked, as well as the righteous, 
are to be raised to life at the general resurrection. It is, 
therefore, illogical to give that gloomy interpretation to the 
same phrases so frequently used in the Neiv Testament, that 
is, in a dispensation of grace! I have proved, and I think 
unanswerably, that the judicial punishment of sin is deaths 
the loss of life, or of a claim to immortality, from perfection 
of character ;. that to construe the terms death, perdition, de- 
struction, into a life, an eternal life of misery, is the strangest 
perversion of language that was ever permitted to pass cur- 
rent. And I have proved that Jesus Christ, in his official 
character, has proclaimed a repeal of the sentence of condemna- 
tion, by the assurance of an universal resurrection ; that he 
Imis assured the righteous that they shall immediately possess 
an immortal life, and that he has left the wicked in a state of 
certainty respecting adequate punishment, and in a state of 
awful uncertainty, respecting the issue ; which, however, 
does not exclude hopes to future penitcMce. See Charac- 
teristic Excellencies of Christiauity. Part III, 

'THE EXD. 



ERRATA. 

Page 76, line 8 from bottom, A Giant, Sec. place inverted commas 
as marks of a quotation. 
134, — 10 from bottom, for motive inducing, read motive in- 
troducing- an act of volition. 
245, — iSj/or more satisfactory, rtvjJ more uiKatisfaCtcry. 



Published ly the same Author. 



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